


Ends

by AnnaCipactli12



Category: The Hollow Crown (2012), The Tudors, The White Queen (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 07:46:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 54,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1680371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaCipactli12/pseuds/AnnaCipactli12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One simple change in the past alters the course of history and everyone else involved. I have rewritten the chapters, Henry's birth remains the same so appearances have changed but he still retains some of his looks. Alice my OC is born 1419.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_“I want him to enjoy the company of an experienced free woman.” –The Vikings (season 2)._

_~o~_

_Henry left his son in the care of Joan Astley.  Henry V never saw his son and when the Prince was six months old Katherine left him behind in England in the care of his uncle, Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester._

_-Alison Weir, Wars of the Roses._

Henry V inhaled deeply. The smell of pepper woke him up. “No more.” He told his officers. They insisted. Their King was too weak. He couldn’t possibly continue this enterprise. He had given too much already for them. It was their turn.

“How much longer until we reach Kent?”

“One day, maybe two with this weater.”

“We should’ve spotted land by now.”

Humphrey worried for his brother. He had been injured but he kept his injuries secret, prioritizing over his brother’s health instead. John had been left in France to serve as nominal Regent until their brother got better.

On arrival at Vincennes he had insisted on riding on horseback to the main castle to relieve the Duke of Burgundy with his problems with the French. It was there he had fallen prey to illness and he was forced to be carried down by litter. Henry coughed more blood.

It was humiliating. He was the King of England. He had defied his father when no one else had. He had taken the crown right from his hands and suffocated the old man’s words when he made him promise never to go to war with France, and yet here he was, defeated by a mere cold.

“Ah God!”

“How much longer until we reach England?” His brother swore. “We have been at sail for three days now?”

“Not much longer milord, the captain has just spotted land.” The aid told him.

They disembarked on the wrong side of port. It took them three days to reach port, not two like that half-wit had told them and three more to reach Leeds Castle, where Richard II had stayed. The aura of sense of doom lingered on Henry as he entered the room where the skippy king stayed.

He coughed harder. His brother stayed by his side the entire time. “Where is the…” (cough) (cough) “…doctor?”

“He is on his way brother. Bring more wine.”

The servants came with full jugs of wine. They force it down the king’s throat. He was too weak to swallow.

“Henry…” Henry closed his eyes and exhaled a last breath. At that moment the king came. He checked the king’s vitals and assured him he was fine. He began to work immediately and with the help of his aids, bled him and served him a special potion afterwards.

“Will he wake?” Humphrey asked, shaking with fear. He feared what would happen if he died. They were in the middle of enforcing English rule in the rest of Southern France that remained rebellious as always –loyal to the Dauphin.

Katherine had been staying in her parents’ old fortress, abandoning her son soon after his birth to his nurse and governess Alice Butler, just like his father.

“It’s hard to say. He is in god’s hands now?”

“God’s hands? Is that all you can say? The crown is paying you an expensive sum and all you can say is the same shit the priests say?”

“Milord there is nothing I can do.”

“The hell you can.” He grabbed the elderly man by the collar and pushed him against the wall. “Now you get in there and help my brother!”

He let go of the weakling.

For three days and three nights the king labored. The Queen had been summoned from her parents’ fortress in Silene in France to Leeds.

This had been the castle of Queen Dowagers, it had a terrible sense of forbidding doom on her. She didn’t wish to be another widow, another footnote in history. She entered her husband’s chamber. There basins of scented water on every corner to disguise the awful stench.

“Even if he lives, he might never have children.” The men had said. She didn’t care what their response was towards their king’s state. She was his wife and as a good wife, she would nurse him back to health. Not because it was her duty but because she wanted to be another one of his players at court. She didn’t intend to remain another silent figure like she and her sister had been. Her parents never paid them any attention, they had locked them up in a castle, jealous that any men who saw them might compare them to them. Their mother was just as crazy as their father. Jealous woman who could not stand hearing there was someone more beautiful than her, and her father in his catatonic states would start cursing everyone who said the same of his gender.

Poor brother Charles, she thought. Her brother had to grow in a kingdom divided because of her new husband. As the new Queen of France and England she could influence her husband to issue a pardon and make him one of his governors, but she wasn’t that powerful enough (yet) to influence her husband.

She took down the hood of her cloak, revealing herself to Henry. She clasped his hand and whispered his name in his ear. He turned to her. Instantly, he began to feel better and color returned to his cheeks, blushing furiously when she repeated it for a third time.

“Kate. I am so glad you are here.”

Glad. She had hoped he would say happy. But glad was good enough for now. “They told me you were dying.”

“Nay, my men have a penchant for drama. You see? I am fine. I will be better in the morrow.”

Henry began to cough louder, spitting blood. Some of it landed on her cheek. She took a white handkerchief and wiped it from her face.

“My lady you should leave-“

Katherine glared at him. “I shall remain with my husband.” The servant backed down. She turned back to Henry. “Get better my love. Get better for our son.” She leaned forward and kissed his brow then his lips, wincing at their coldness then left.

Henry spent three more days in his family’s presence. His brother sent good news from France. They had captured one of the rebel leaders and put him to death. He expected the south of France would surrender the Dauphin by the end of the month. The news lifted Henry’s spirits and redoubled his energies. On the fifth day he was able to get out of bed and make coherent sentences without coughing or having more bile coming from his throat. His vowels were no longer loose and his urine no longer smelled.  
He felt his strength return by the sixth day and by the seventh all his symptoms were gone.

Katherine knelt besides her husband’s bed-side, squeezing his hand as he sat up and took a piece of freshly baked bread from the oven.

“It’s a miracle.” The country folk said when they heard.

 The news spread like wildfire. All over England there was rejoicing. In France the rebels were still voiceforous as ever in their protests over the English occupation. They would not stop until all of them were gone. The war the king had started had only increased their nationalism and it wasn’t going away. Katherine of Valois, their beloved princess was no longer seen in the same light. She was no longer one of them. She had betrayed them for the English cause, she was a traitor just like her father. Their only hope was in the French Dauphin, the true heir of their French lands.

* * *

 

Katherine dripped the cloth in hot water and put it on his forehead. “Our son is coming today from Windsor. You will be so happy to see him Henry. He is so beautiful and he has your hair.”

Henry smiled. “I can’t wait to meet him either. It seems like forever that I’ve been asleep.” He took her hand, pushed the wet cloth from his face and drove his hand to her lips and kissed it. “Thank you Kate, you have been very kind to me these past few days. I don’t know how I would’ve gone through this without you.”

“You don’t have to take me Henry. I only did my duty.”

“No, it was more than duty.” Henry said. “You said at your father’s palace that you could never love the enemy of France.”

“And you said that you were the friend of France.”

“I still am. This news with your brother, I know how much it troubles you. I see it in your eyes.”

“He is my brother. We grew up together.”

“I want to make things better for him too Kate but I can’t abandon France, the kingdom is in fragile hands now. If I die, England would lose its more precious jewel. I can’t allow that.”

“Is it worth sending all those hundreds of thousands of soldiers to die just for an ideal?”

“Not just any ideal Kate, our ideal. When you married into the House of Lancaster you knew what that entailed. It is not just France I am fighting for, but our future, our son’s future. I intend to make him the greatest king in English history.”

She looked away. He brought his hand to her face, gently turning it. “You must believe me Kate.”

“I believe you.”

“Good, I knew you would understand. My loving Kate.” He whispered bringing his lips to hers.

* * *

 

The Dauphin enquired over his sister’s health. “She’s given birth to a baby boy, milord.”

“Another one?”

“Yes but they say he’s sickly. The doctors don’t think he’s likely to live.”

“Blessed be to god.” He said circling his cell. The king and his scouts had captured him and he was forced to stay in this dirty cell. Compared to the others it was a luxury but for a prince like him, it was dirty. Far beneath his station. “Of course that is god’s decision. Whatever He is doing is divine punishment for what the king of England has done to our fine kingdom.”

“Yes, milord.” His aid agreed with him.

His sister came from a fertile mother. Their mother was good at nothing more but giving birth to babies endlessly. And not to mention brag about her beauty.

He sighed and stared mindlessly outside the window. There was another war looming. The war over France was not over. A few victories did not make the king a conqueror and that contract he had signed, he had forced his father to sign under duress. It didn’t count. As far as he and the Southern French nobility were concerned, France was still a free and independent country and they would keep it that way, fighting for it until they drove the dreaded English away.

* * *

 

Katherine didn’t understand why she couldn’t bring him anymore children. Ever since Henry had gotten better, they had resumed their bed duties. They had shared their bed more times than they could count, each time was better than the last. Katherine had to admit to herself at last. When they had been married the consummation had been so quick and the times they shared their beds afterwards, he had been so much in a hurry to finish, that she barely felt anything at all except anger. Now it was different, now he sought her bed for pleasure. But time was getting short. With his brothers fighting each other, and the Beaufort male brothers vying their way to power as well. Henry was the only person keeping everyone in check but he needed his position to be stronger. One son was not enough and the only other son she had given birth successfully to after Harry, had fallen ill and died after it took his first breath.

She needed to have another son now.

“Watch where you are going fool.” She said to the idiot lady who fell on her lap. Looking down she saw it was not a lady at all but a man.

With a flip and a twirl, Owen Tudor had accidentally fallen on the queen’s lap. He immediately apologized. “I am terribly sorry my lady, I didn’t know where I was going … I thought …”

“You thought what? That you could land wherever you wanted, on the queen’s lap like I am a common whore?”

“No, I …I…”

“Another fool who stutters. What is your name boy?”

“I am no boy, my lady, my name is Owen son of Meredith, son of Tudor.”

“Son of Tudor? Are you the man that brought my husband from his cursed journey to France?”

“Yes my lady, I campaigned with him in Agincourt, served in his regiment, I rescued him when he fell down his horse.”

“Rescued him from what? He was already ailing when he fell down his horse, you just prolonged his ailing. You are very lucky he didn’t die, otherwise I would’ve accused you of prolonging a long and painful death.”

“Madame I don’t know why you are angry at me. I saved the king’s life, I saved your husband’s life. You should be thankful that I was there.”

“Why would I be thankful for? You are just a squire and I am a queen. Queens don’t thank squires boy for doing what they are supposed to do. If you rescued the king it was because it was your duty. That’s what soldiers do. Now go and fetch me some water like a good squire.”

“I don’t need to hear this-“ He said wheeling around.

“What did you say?”

“I said I don’t need to hear this. I am Owen of House Meredith of House Tudor, a proud House mind you that your husband’s father slaughtered when it stood for its rightful king.”

“Your king was a traitor-“

“That your husband’s father killed and my father and uncles paid the price for supporting him!” He shouted. Katherine was stunned. He took a step forward, he was just inches away from her face. “I have worked tirelessly since then to prove my loyalty to House Lancaster. I will not stand and hear how its queen behaves less than nobly to the man who saved her husband’s life!”

He wheeled away and said giving a mock curtsy “Your Grace. Now if you will excuse me I will fetch you your water.”

The insufferable man –She thought. Katherine took the cup he brought and made him stay on his knees for a good fifteen minutes. “It’s awful, bring me ale or whatever is available and make sure it’s cold.”

Owen went back to the kitchens for a third time and brought the queen her third drink. She finally let him go.

“The nerve of that man, Your Grace.” Her ladies said.

“Yes, he is quite an animal isn’t he?” Katherine asked, hiding her smile by bringing her cup closer to her lips.

 _Owen ap  Mareddud ap Tudor_. Such an odd name for such an interesting man. She took another sip from her cup.

* * *

 

“My lord, you wished to see me?”

“Yes.” Cardinal Beaufort said. “You were my nephew’s squire during the French war.”

“The war is not yet over my lord.”

“Plainspoken. It’s Your Eminence.” The Cardinal corrected him.

“Your Eminence.” Owen said.

“You have been very taken with the queen. She has given many complaints about you and your recent mistress, the laundress’ daughter filed another complaint about you. She said you wanted to rape her daughter and came at the dead of night to her bedroom then when she tried to get you off her you tried to rape her as well.”

“My lord … Your Eminence, that’s a lie. I would never force myself on a woman. I don’t need to. Mistress Walters is only angry that I rejected her daughter.”

“And she should be. You have a prominent career any man your age, would already be married. Why did you refuse her suit?”

“I did not feel like we were compatible.”

“Compatible?” Henry Beaufort burst out laughing. “My god boy you are hilarious. Marriages are for alliances and to beget children, in your case begetting children. Why didn’t you marry her after she pressed charges against you? It would have solved your problem.”

“Would you marry someone who pressed charges against you Your Eminence?”

“No but I don’t have to do I? I will spare you the long sermon master Owen. I called you here because I’ve noticed how you look at the queen and how the queen looks at you. If you promise to help me I promise I will help you in turn. You will have fortunes by the millions. You can buy yourself a nice mansion by the countryside in Wales where you and your folk grew up and maybe, just maybe if you play your cards right, I can find you a handsome bride with a fat dowry. How does that sound?”

Owen’s expression revealed nothing. “What do I have to do?” He asked in a monotone tone.

“Nothing. Just continue doing what you are doing and make sure the queen stays pleased with your service.”

“The queen hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you my boy. Every woman says she hates their lovers before they succumb to temptation. It is in woman’s nature.”

Realization dawned on Owen and he felt sick to the pit of his stomach. Yes, he felt a deep attraction for the queen but the woman beneath that jeweled crown was insufferable. She would not sleep with him even if god Himself commanded her to it. She was proud, uncomely, and irritable. How could the Cardinal think that she-wolf would sleep with him?  
He doubted she even slept with the king out of pleasure. He heard from the maids he bedded that she hated sex, the mere thought of it repulsed her, it was why the king no longer sought her bed. And why would he when she brought nothing but dead babies? The only son they had was still a youngster and rumor had it, his father was not very close to it, leaving him to the charge of nannies as it was often the tradition with the firstborns of these royals.

“I do not believe Her Grace will allow me to come a foot closer of her bed.”

“A foot no. An inch maybe. Use that Welsh charm of yours.” He sat back down in his cushioned chair.

Owen took a step forward and with an inquisitive face, he asked in a hard tone. “Why me?”

“You are Welsh and low-born. Anyone else would screw up this plan asking for money. Not you. You are the son of a traitor and you are ambitious, you want to prove yourself just as much as highborns except unlike highborns you don’t have the means to do it. I can provide you with that means, just serve me well.” He said raising his cup to him then waved his hand at him.

Owen stood still.

“You’re still here.”

“If the king found out I would find myself a head shorter.”

“Then don’t let him find out. Be discreet just as you’ve been in all your affairs. I hold the king’s ear and while he tries to settle the quarrels between his two brothers, you and I will be working together so the queen gives the king what he wants, what this realm needs.”

“And what is that?”

“Sons. The so called duke of York recently married Westmorland’s daughter and she is already pregnant. If she starts sprouting York babies it will put the entire House of Lancaster at risk and incur another civil war. Your job is simple: Make sure the queen spreads her leg for you and put your baby in her belly.”

“And if the king finds out.”

He waved his hand dismissively again. “He won’t find out.” He said tossing a leather pouch he took from underneath his robes at Owen.

Owen looked inside, there were all golden sovereigns. Twenty at least. A great amount. Large enough to buy him a house.

“Do as I say master Owen and I promise you there will be a lot more where this comes from.” He said. “You may leave now. I believe you have a job to do.”

* * *

 

Katherine called on her best friend, Sally to unlace her dress. She was getting tired of her younger maids doing it for her. A queen’s body was sacred but these English girls acted as if it was public property. They laughed behind her back, spreading rumors that her body was getting so old that it was no wonder the king no longer wanted to share her bed. Some of the bawdier ones, Katherine heard them say that her husband had found herself a mistress. A younger girl by the name of ‘Melisande’, a French captive he’d taken from his first campaign in Agincourt who had recently floured into womanhood and Henry had fallen head over heels for.

Katherine scoffed. Henry falling for someone that low. It was ridiculous. But even more ridiculous it was the idea of Henry having a mistress. Her husband’s only care in the world was ruling. He cared for nothing else. She thought bitterly as the dress dropped to the flower and she stepped out of it.

She looked at her naked form in the mirror. Her body was still the same as when Henry wed her. Years of miscarriages and stillborns had not changed that. People whispered that she was no longer able to have children but what did they know? Her mother had been fertile and she came from a line that was known for its fertility. She may still have more.

 _That is Henry shares my bed._ She thought. Her lady brought her, her nightgown. Katherine dismissed her afterwards.

 _You are still beautiful._ A voice said behind her back. She mistook it for her conscience. It had been a long time since she heard it. She killed what remained of it after she lost Edward, their second son. Henry blamed her, he said he didn’t but he did. _Just like all men._ She thought bitterly.

She turned away from the mirror. It was too painful.

She lay on her bed, slipping underneath the furs and soft covers then cried.

Owen looked behind the purple curtains, hidden in the shadows, at the young queen. He had whispered she was still young when she called herself ugly without thinking it. He had called her beautiful when her maid was still with her, and she didn’t hear him. She was trapped in her own world, thinking of nothing else but what the mirror told her.

He wanted to step out of the shadows and reveal himself to her but he was afraid he would only hurt her more in her poor state. _Poor queen, her maids_ said. _She is frigid, the king is young and still handsome. It takes a no brainer to know why he doesn’t want to share her bed._

Owen was not a fan of gossip, but it was impossible to stay away from it when it was all you heard in court these days. And the king’s sudden absence did nothing to help.

Just what was the king doing? He doubted he had more important things to attend to than his wife. The proliferation of his dynasty was what mattered more to him. He should be here with the queen, making sure he got her pregnant so the realm could be at ease, and so he wouldn’t have to do it.

He had felt uncomfortable with the attention she had been receiving, especially by Edmund Beaufort which according to illicit rumors they were having an affair. That is what he called ill-bred rumors.  For how could anyone think twice about their queen's chastity? She was beautiful but not a wanton. She would never risk her reputation for pleasure's sake. Besides she had a son and she had lost so much.

She could still have more ... But according to the King it was either him or her that was cursed. It was no question who would get discarded first.

He turned away and silently crept away.

Katherine put on her clothes. It was no use looking back at the mirror. she would only see what Henry didn't want to see.


	2. Chapter 2

By January 1434 Henry won the support from Parliament to finance his army once more. His brother’s wife Anne of Burgundy had a daughter making her the next in line to the throne after Harry and her father. If Anne had a son –which she may still could, since she had gotten better after her last relapse- it would make her husband twice as powerful and influential in English politics. And more popular amongst the Burgundian court which he recently visited. Philip promised that as long as John and Anne’s marriage lasted, so would their alliance.

Henry did not know who to trust. The earl of March had died and it was only fair he gave his lands and titles to the titular Duke of York, a boy of barely twenty three, ten years older than his son but far wilier and ambitious. Would that he could, he sinfully thought, that he had a son like Richard instead one as pious and timid like Harry.

He sank in his chair. He looked at his beaten _wife_ Katherine. “I did this for your own good.”

“You saved only yourself. You knew Owen’s chaplain was going to beat me and you did nothing to stop it.”

“That’s true I didn’t. You betrayed me, you made me the laughing stock of the country. How do you think I should have reacted?”

“I am your wife.”

“You are my whore and my concubine and until the pope declares our marriage null and void another nuisance in my life.”

“The pope has been granting you a divorce for years,  it’s almost been five. What makes you think he will grant you one at last?”

“I am preparing to grant him an extra sum of money to finance my brother in law’s campaign against the Turks. He is not going to reject it.”

“Of course he will. The pope favors whoever gives him the more money and after you burned that poor girl to the stake what makes you think he will agree to your miserly money? Whatever you give Henry my brother can double it. The people love him, they love their new king, they will never love you or our son.”

“It’s our son now then? When did you ever hold him? When did you nurse him, in fact when did you kiss him or tell him goodnight or sang to him a song at night while he slept?”

“I am his mother not his nurse. Your promised me many children and happiness but all I got from you were years of neglect. You only came to me when you were tired and I could smell it on you, the sweat from your brow and your back. You cared more about your soldiers and your books then you did of me.”

“My soldiers and my books darling did not nag and they certainly did not cheat.”

“I told you I was sorry.”

“Not sorry enough! I gave you everything. I gave you jewels, a crown, two when I conquered your father’s kingdom and I made you the most powerful woman in the kingdom. I gave you my heart Kate.”

“You gave me nothing! You gave me chains. All I wanted was to be loved Henry. My father locked my mother whenever he was tired of her then my mother locked me and my sister.” She said. Her parents were nothing but monsters. Her father was a sweet man when he wanted but that madness, it was as if he was possessed. He would say and do things that he would regret later after he came from his stupor, it turned her mother crazy. Since she couldn’t take it out on the king she took it out on her children.

Charles was the lucky one. He was a boy so he was safe from their parents’ abuse. When she was little she told her nana that she wished she was a boy so she was the one calling the shots and no one would ever have to abuse her again.

Now she faced Henry. A man she had once been afraid of, but all the fear had escaped her after she married Owen. He had shown her what it felt to be loved and showed her many more wonders that Henry could only hope he knew. Henry wasn’t a man of pleasure; his heart wasn’t with his loved but in the arena with the politicians and his soldiers.

“I am not scared Henry. If you want to lock me up for the rest of my life in some convent until the pope gives you your divorce, do it. Good luck with that!” She chuckled sarcastically. “Until that you are stuck with me Henry, you are stuck with me and you are going to have to respect me or else you will endanger your immortal soul just as I have endangered mine and I know for a fact that you will not.”

Henry rose from his chair and walked to her, he raised his hand but his fist never came down.

“By all the saints” He swore. If God had not made her fall in love with a woman as hateful as her. He lowered his hand and forced her up.

“Do it Henry. Show everyone who you truly are.” She whispered daringly but her eyes were filled with fear.

He pushed her down and made her fell. Just one look at her, struggling to get up, and he knew he had lost all affection for her.

“Henry” Katherine called but the doors were already closed. She managed to get up and climbed on the bed. She recognized that look in Henry’s eyes, it was the same look her father wore when he told her mother he didn’t love her.

She rubbed where he had almost hit her. She laughed madly. He nearly hit her and she had welcomed it. Because the difference between love and hate was not a big one and she wanted to know if he still felt something for her so she could remedy it. But what hope was there to remedy? Her parents were dead, her brother was France’s undisputed ruler and Henry was waging another expensive war with that kingdom, one he was less likely to win. What hope was there for her now?

She began to write to her sons, all three of them for when they reached the age of majority. They deserved to know the truth of their parents, including Owen.

Owen came to visit her, he came with an armed guard. “I am sorry.” He said.

“Save it.” She interrupted. “The King has already explained how you didn’t know.” She grinned then shook her head in frustration. She wiped a tear from her face.

Owen took his handkerchief.

“Don’t,” she told him. “Henry would have both our heads if I accepted it.”

“We have been under direr situations before. I think a handkerchief won’t be the end of us.”

“You didn’t see him today.”

“Did he hit you?”

“No. He did nothing, that’s the problem.” She looked at his guards. “Are you going to report this to the King too?”

“Go easy at them Kat. Tell me what is it,” He said kneeling before her, cupping her chin, making her gaze at him. “Please.”

She sniffed. “In all our marriage Henry always showed emotion. He told me when he was angry, he told me when he was sad, sometimes he didn’t need to. I would just know but today … it was as if he wasn’t there.” She shook her head.

“He won’t hurt you.” Owen said softly placing a small kiss on her cheek. “He loves you too much and he won’t dare hurt the sister of the King of France.”

“I am not sure of that anymore. You should’ve seen how he looked at me. I was a stranger to him.”

“Oh Kat … if only you listened to me.” He rubbed his thumb against the soft spot he’d kissed.

“Protect my children Owen, all of my children. Promise me.”

He lowered his eyes to her stomach. So many miscarriages and diseases which had taken their children as well, in her belly she had the future of their family, a family he wished the two of them could raise together. His hands and took hers. “I promise.” He said.

No more words were said. He thrust something in Katherine’s hand before he left, a parting gift he whispered in his native Welsh, the only few words he taught her he knew she would understand. When they left she opened her hands and saw a bronze locket, inside was a miniature portrait of the two of them and the baby they had lost and at the center was her darling boy, Harry. Just how he’d gotten ahold of his image to make this, she could only guess.

He is still silly. But it was okay to be silly. He would have to rely on his good humor and wits when he grew up so he wouldn't be corrupted by the same vultures that corrupted his father and uncles. _Stay silly Harry._ She cried as she caressed his pale face. She hid it underneath her mattress. She would look at it every time she felt sad so it would give her strength and remind her of what she still had to live for.

Her brother might be a lot of things, but one thing he was not, was a coward. He was a family man unlike their father. He would not abandon her like Henry intended to. He would protect her with every ounce of his being and he would use his influence so Henry would remain married to her and so he could miss the opportunity on siring more children and potential threats on his French kingdom.

Katherine didn’t care if the people hated her, if Henry’s council turned against her and locked her up in a cell. She was not going to let Henry divorce her so he could marry a younger bitch who was likely to use her influence so she could get her children to be the first in Henry’s line of succession.

* * *

 

The matter of the divorce dragged on for another month. They said it would be years before the pope gave him what he wanted. Henry didn't have years. He needed a divorce now. He was becoming more desperate. “How much money have I given to his holiness so he could get me rid of that woman and she is still here and you are still here? How longer do I have to wait?”

“His holiness has much on his plate.”

“I thought we agreed to be honest.”

“The King of France has paid an outrageous to keep you from divorcing your wife and you haven’t made matters better by refusing my advice.”

“I won’t kill her!”

“Would you like to remind me nephew what happened when the skippy King, your father’s rival, failed to execute his rivals? Your father might have been many things while he lived but a fool he was not. He would not have blinked twice if it meant preserving his family name.”

“Then you be King! I have done my duty for England and my family. I forgave my enemies in the battlefield and punished the traitors and I can’t get rid of this. How will history remember me? Henry the man who conquered a kingdom and then lost it because he couldn’t get rid of his wife?”

“There are other ways nephew. When your ancestress’ husband, Louis VII refused to give Eleanor of Aquitaine the divorce she wanted, she pressured the papal courts using all her knowledge of canon law. Your lawyers know canon and secular law better than anyone, if they go to the pope and remind him how important England is for the papacy they might think twice of supporting your rival.”

“And how is he going to do that?” John said coming into the room. “Brother, I wish I could greet you in happier circumstances.” He hugged Henry then sat down. “So what is our uncle’s beautiful plan?”

“I was just telling Henry here how he needs to exert great pressure on the pope. Remind him that he has more churches in England than in France and half his revenues come from here.”

“Beautiful uncle except that half of those revenues come from England and France and just one percent places us above France. His holiness will never fall from it. Henry, I know you are going to hate me for saying this but-“

“Out with it John.”

“Stay with Katherine, you are not going to win this argument. It’s over. Charles beat you. Stomach it in.”

“Nay, I am not. Katherine thinks she can win this game because her brother is the bloody King of France but she is not going to have the last laugh.”

“What are you going to do then Harry? You have a son, very soon you will have a bastard boy to look after and you have ambitious courtiers to keep in check. Best to let it go.”

“Nay, I can’t, if she wins that sends a powerful message that the Queen can do as she pleases. I gave Katherine a choice when I discovered the affair. I said to her ‘leave him or stay with me’ she chose him. Now she will reap the consequences of her choice.”

“Good nephew, now you are starting to think like your father.” Henry Beaufort said.

John sighed. “Henry think this through. If you do this, you will only make the French angrier. The territories that remain staunchly loyal to you, do so because you married one of their Princesses, they will revolt when you leave her for a foreigner.”

“Good, it will save me the time to find them before I butcher them.” He walked to his desk and took a seat. He looked at his uncle. “How fast can these lawyers get to the pope?”

“Just say the word. They will be ready to depart today.”

“Do it and remind his holiness that England has always been loyal and unlike France we don’t have tolerance for heretics.”

“Yes, nephew.”

He left the two brothers and John asked his brother “Do you think the pope will listen to his two lawyers?”

“My two lawyers. My uncle thinks he is the de facto pope in England but he is still my servant and to answer your question –He will.”

“How can you be so sure? You heard what our uncle said, the King has the pope by the balls-“

“You said that. I don’t intend an old man in Rome to listen but he wears the triple crown of Saint Peter and when he reads what I have to say he will change his mind faster than you can say Hail Mary. Is something funny?” He glared at John who was laughing.

“Nothing, it’s just that I’ve never heard you say such insults to the holy father before. She must really be getting to you.”

“I intend to get rid of Katherine by any legal means necessary, if I have to threaten a few holy men along the way then so be it. I will get my way in this.”

“And what then? What happens to your son afterwards? That York boy you sent to the Earl of Westmorland to be raised just married his daughter Cecily, through her their children inherit three claims; if you divorce Katherine people will start speaking against your son claiming he’s not yours. It places the stain of illegitimacy on your house, moves York one step closer to the chessboard.”

“I will deal with York in due time. That boy thinks he can have the best of me, let him think that. There is still time for me to oust him and his lot.”

“You are not getting any younger, take what you can and make the best of him. Lay the terms to France, show them that we can reason with them. You can’t keep winning all the time.”

“No? Watch me.”

* * *

 

When the pope read the king’s letter he almost died of an apoplexy. “There is more where that came from.” The King’s lawyers said and presented him with a bull of their own that not only excommunicated Queen Katherine but annulled her marriage to their King without disinheriting their son under the good faith clause.

The pope signed it almost at once before they gave him another surprise.

When they returned to London, they proclaimed in front of a crowd of thousands that the marriage between King Henry and the now Princess Katherine of France was annulled. The crowds cheered, throngs of cries were heard from the Westminster Abbey where Katherine had been placed under the care of its Abbot until Henry decided what to do with her.

“I suppose you heard.” The Abbot told her.

“Yes. When will I leave for France?”

“The King has fixed a date with your brother, King Charles for the twentieth of next year after he chooses his bride and you deliver your child.”

"And Owen? What will happen to her?"

The Abbot glowered at her.

"Please I need to know."

"He will be exiled, executed after he finishes his sentence I guess. He has agreed."

The Abbot expected her to break in tears but Katherine did not give him the pleasure. She asked about who Henry planned to marry.

"I don't know. That is up for the King and his councilors to decide."

She chuckled and smiled sardonically. “How long can it take to choose a bride? I am sure there are many who would be happy to be married to the brave hero who conquered France and who spent his days shitting before the wife he cast out nursed him to health.”

“Your Highness, I am sure this is a difficult moment for you but the King is the King and until you leave England he is still your lord.”

“My lord?” She laughed madly. “The man put me in a cloister then threw me in a castle where my lover’s chaplain nearly beat me to death and now he’s terminated our marriage. Tell me priest how am I supposed to be thankful to a man who took everything from me?”

“My lady I can’t respond to that, I am only here as your spiritual councilor but I can tell you from personal experience, having known his father that the King is not a man you want to trifle with. You had your quarrels, you did mistakes, now it is time to let go and pray to God for forgiveness for your sins.”

“Will He forgive Henry too?”

“Your Highness, the King was always a faithful man-“

“In body but in spirit his heart was always elsewhere. I am not an ignorant like His Majesty thinks Abbot, I know of the rumors before he became King how he would frequent every brothel in London.”

“That was a long time ago. The King has reformed his ways since then.”

“A man like that doesn’t change. After what I did to him I doubt he will want to stay faithful again.” She turned her back on the Abbot and sat on her little bed. The mattress was hard and the covers were so thin they barely offered her any comfort from the freezing nights. “You just wait and see Abbot, once he marries he will be the same Henry he was before he became King.”

“I very much doubt that Your Highness. The King is a man who knows his duty well.” _Unlike you_ –he thought.

“You confuse duty with desire. Henry has always done his duty but he misses the chase, he misses the hunt. You can’t take that away from him.”

“Madame I am afraid you are letting the devil take ahold of you through your anger. If you hope to be forgiven, you must pray to God so He gives you guidance.”

“I will pray Abbot when I am with my brother. Until then, I hope to be left alone. Good day father.” She said and pointed the Abbot to the door.

It was useless talking to her. The former Queen was dead set on her views and neither she nor her brother would forgive Henry for this. In France they had rejoiced and welcomed Henry like a conquering hero (though some of these stories were largely exaggerating). Now, with Katherine working with her brother and another foreign wife they would see Henry as he really was, as the enemy and unite under his former brother in law to expel him from France.

The King wasn’t deterred however. He intended to show everyone his might. The year that his wife left for France, she left with a present for her brother from her former husband. When the King of France opened it he nearly threw up his supper. Inside was a jeweled finger. He recognized by the seal on the ring who it belonged to.

He swore an oath in their native tongue and wrote to the King condemning him for such an act but the King replied that there was more where that came from and unless the King wanted to see more of his nobles hanged and butchered, he would honor the treaty he signed with the Duke of Anjou and King of Naples and Sicily, and let him keep Aquitaine and Normandy. The rest, he said, could be his.

Henry received Charles reply. He agreed to all of Henry’s demands except for one. He was not going to let Henry keep Normandy. Aquitaine he could but not Normandy.

“Need I remind you what happens to people who defy me?” Henry wrote back.

Charles tore down his rival’s letter. Things would have been better if his sister had only kept her legs shut. Henry would still be his enemy, but at least he’d have his sister as their go-in-between but now he had nothing. No spy, no alliance, nothing!

His councilors warned him to attack and take Normandy. Charles very well could but what would that do? Another useless war and drain on his resources, not to mention that England still had the Duke of Burgundy backing them. He had to find another way out of this mess.

* * *

 

Scandal dominated the English Court once more when the daughter of the Count of St. Pol arrived to England as a lady in waiting to the Duchess of Bedford, the King’s sister in law, newly married to the Duke’s squire, Sir Richard Woodville.

The Woodvilles were one of England’s rising gentry. They had always done well by their Kings and were staunch Lancastrians. Anne of Burgundy vouched for both of them. The King forgave them but put a fine on them of more than one thousand pounds, an extreme sum that proved impossible to pay. They had to enter royal service again with Sir Richard being moved to the King’s service and Jacquetta as lady to the Duchess of Bedford once again.

That settled, the King turned his mind to more important matters. The peace between him and the King of France. Charles would agree to have the English keep Normandy if they accepted his ruling that his sister was still Henry V’s lawful wedded wife and no good faith argument or papal decree would change that. Henry V rejected his proposal and broke all communications with the French. In one stroke of fate, he decided to he would let them have some of their territories back which incurred his younger brother, Humphrey’s wrath. But he soon found out that it was all part of Henry’s more brutal schemes. Maine and Anjou, the last which was in theory autonomous, were officially in French control now, same with all of Southern France, with the exception of Poitou and the great Northern cities, which were important for the national economy as the cloth industry was one of the biggest economies that England was dependent on.

Charles felt himself cheated and bullied. But there was nothing he could do. Henry had made him sign the document and he had his brother John to thank him for helping him in his deception.

The former Queen cried when she found she was completely isolated. Her belly ached as she felt the child she was about to give birth leave her. She screamed. But no help came.

She died alone next to two poor babes. Their faces were still bloody and their umbilical cords were still connected to their bellies when the Abbot found them. They were tended to, cared and given a quick Christening. There was no special ceremony or prayers to be said after them by the whole nation, not even one soul showed to their baptism, when they were born. In contrast to their brother more lavished ceremony, theirs was hardly noticed.

Henry wasn’t aware his wife had died until a month later. He was told of her sudden birth, near miscarriage and cries for help. He flew in a rage, he threw everything and killed everyone at once but then he opened his eyes and found his chin still supported on his fist, his skin still cold and his body unmoving. “Leave me.”

“Your Grace-“

“I said leave me!” His men scurried like rats they were, leaving the room. He heard the sound of the doors closing, the click of the outer chambers as they were locked, and waited until the sound of their footsteps became nonexistent and acted out his rage.

He grabbed the present his late father in law, his son’s grandfather had given him. “With truer hearts.” He laughed madly. He held it in both his hands and smashed it against his throne. His father’s throne. He could hear his father laughing in mock as he told him ‘Now you know Harry how does it feel to have your loved ones turn against you.’

He wheeled furiously and turned the voice of his father’s to shut up but he kept hearing it until he fell on his knees, hiding his face in his throne seat, crying.

‘Your son Harry. He will rebel against you one day just as you rebelled against me. You have done many things boy for this country but how will the world remember you? As the popular king, another skippy king? Or the popular king who used his popularity as a weapon and fathered many sons.’ He could feel his father’s hand on his back. ‘Your big mistake is telling others you wanted a divorce and keeping your son’s title. A king doesn’t ask Henry, he takes. You’ve defended the church, you’ve done your duty to your men, now do your duty to your crown.’

* * *

 

Edmund learned to walk for the first time. “Mommy.” Owen’s sister, Miriam ap Maredduth ap Tudor, picked him up along with his brother and sat them on her laps. “Mommy.” Jasper echoed, copying his brother. He pointed at Miriam’s saggy face. As the oldest of Maradduth siblings, it fell on her to look after the Tudor children.

Edmund Beaufort would come to visit them daily to check on their progress. As their mother’s former lover, some said he felt responsible for them. But Miriam knew better. In a better world he could’ve been these boys’ father. If Henry had died on that day he sailed from France to England after his last campaign, he could’ve married their mother and spared her years of pain.

“Who is Edmund?” He asked as he took a seat in front of the boys’ aunt. Miriam didn’t have time to stand and curtsy as she tried to balance both boys, keeping them from falling from her. Babies loved fat and her large form made it perfect for them, to give them space as they began jumping while still sitting on her legs.

“This one.” Miriam pointed to the one at her right. “Edmund” she whispered in his ear. “This is a very special person. He is your mother’s friend. Your namesake.”

“He is also named Edmund?”

“Yes.”

“Hello Edmund. I am –was your mother’s dear friend. My name is also Edmund, your aunt tells me you like horses. Would you like to see the pony I brought for you and your brother?”

“Jasper not old enough to ride horses, I am.”

Jasper scowled and stuck his tongue. Edmund could see a sibling rivalry already sprouting. History would determine if this would be a danger to English politics or to them. It was in Henry’s plans that they would serve as his son’s personal guardians when they became older and his future son’s playmates. The king had many brides on mind but he rejected all of them once he saw their portraits. The memory of Katherine was still fresh on his mind. The council was pressuring him to choose one now. He wasn’t getting younger and with only Prince Henry as his heir, his position as king of England was considerably weaker. Henry of Wales didn’t exhibit any of his father’s noble qualities, he had his piety and good looks but those were not enough and Henry knew it.

* * *

 

Henry sat back on his chair and looked at the miniatures. All of them were ugly. Dark colored, dark eyes, olive skin. They were all … dark. He pushed them away and looked at the others. “Fat, fat, too thin, ugh, laughable” and the last he just didn’t bother.

Humphrey, the good Duke as he was called looked at his brother, feeling great sympathy for him. He knew the real reason he couldn’t decide was because they were all not Kate. He wanted someone who could replace her, not just in looks but in his heart. He then thought of an idea. “Marguerite of Anjou has a sister.”

“Hmm?”

“Meg of Anjou, remember? Renee’s little girl. The one you wanted to betroth to your son.”

“Oh yes.” How could Henry forget, his son berated him every time he got the chance. _‘Dad why can’t I marry her?’ ‘It’s not fair’._ Ugh, he was getting worse every year. And the chaplain he’d left him in charge of his son’s education only made him worse. Sometimes he wondered if he wasn’t changeling and the real one was out there somewhere.  
 _‘You are not going to get Meg of Anjou. You would do better with a French alliance or Burgundian one.’_  
 _‘But Marguerite is French and I started writing to her, she is such a sweet girl. She is only  six and a half but she is very smart, she talks about her pets and the new lion her father got him. She wrote me a poem about my feats.’_  
 _‘What feats? You have done nothing special.’_ He said and regretted it at once, but his son was so entrenched by his thoughts about ‘pretty Marguerite’ that he didn’t hear him.

Henry worried daily about his son. He seemed better for the life of a scholar or lawyer than a king’s.

“She is ugly.” Henry said forcing himself to look down at the picture his brother gave him on Marguerite’s sister.

“You haven’t even looked at it.

“I have. Blue eyes, pale complexion and dark blond hair. Take it back. Tell Renee I gave him his bloody territories, I am not in the business of making queens out of his daughters.”

“But look at her. She is beautiful, young and not as scrawny as her sister. She will give you many sons.”

“Humphrey that is disgusting.”

“So you don’t like young girls but you have to consider the possibility she will grow up someday and she could become your son’s next Queen, don’t you want someone fierce by their side by the time you’re gone to make sure he doesn’t screw up.”

“My son won’t screw up. He is a Lancaster, there is still time to mold him into a king.”

“Henry, you’ve tried everything, the poor boy wasn’t born for kingship. You were. If you were to marry and produce more children you could put an end to all your fears. I know what keeps you up at night. I miss her too, Kate was a good queen, kind and sweet but you drove her away-“

“Don’t you dare say her name.” Kate had not been fresh in her grave three years and here was his brother hounding him, threatening him with her memory. What struck a chord was that he accused him of her death.

“It is time you put an end to it Henry. You didn’t pull the trigger but you drove her away with your ambition and thirst for war. I know because I have driven Eleanor too. There is not a day I don’t fear being punished like you were. If Eleanor were to die now I would never forgive myself. She and you are all I have.”

“Make your point Humphrey.”

Humphrey sighed. His brother was so stubborn, he didn’t realize how alike their father he could be. He passed a hand through his straight dark brown hair. They said he got his looks from his grandmother, Blanche of Lancaster from where their House got their name and the Dukedom –and their claim to the throne if their father’s claim that the Earl of Lancaster was truly the firstborn son of Henry III and not Edward I. –A ludicrous point but one that worked and that Henry also used whenever it served him.

“You are getting old. You are no longer a young man, you are in your fifties and while you still have your looks they will fade Henry. One day you will have nothing left. You must start thinking of the future. Remember the skippy king, remember King Stephen. You would always go back and preach about him whenever father did something wrong in government. The first time you stood up to him and tried to force him to give up his crown, to be honest I thought you were mad but then I admired you. I saw you were a king of the people. People followed you, you were what the skippy king was not. They loved you and you didn’t turn your back on them. You were able to converse with your soldiers without looking at them as if they were lesser beings. At only fifteen you already knew about military tactics and knew more about our wars than everyone in his council, including father. We thought you were too bold for your own good, smart but too bold until I saw you shouting at father, reminding him that one mistake and our whole dynasty could go down. One mistake, angering the barons, shutting yourself from the world and bullying your subjects and you were done for just like Stephen. You made that point when no one else did.” He rose from his chair and walked to his brother, put a hand on his shoulder and spoke again. “People want to see their victorious king, give them what they want, better yet, distract them from the obvious and give them a spectacle that unites all of England. Marry the girl and put Katherine to rest.”

Humphrey withdrew his hand from his brother’s shoulder and left the room to let him think on his words. Henry looked down at the picture again. He hadn’t looked at it properly when his brother presented it to him. He thought he saw a pale, blue eyed, blond haired girl but now he saw she was the complete opposite except for the eyes. Her eyes were green just like her mother, he guessed since Rene from the last encounter he had with him had sky blue eyes –just like the rest of his family. The girl was a bastard; born nine years before his oldest trueborn daughter Yolande. Her name was Alix, a noble name. He thought. For a royal daughter. He chuckled. A bastard daughter.

It was out of the question. There had to be someone else. But who? He had discarded everyone. They were too fat, too thin, too ugly, too pretty, seductresses, schemers, passives. He had nowhere left to choose from. It was a great insult to his people and his crown, one they were unlikely to forget. But desperate times required desperate measures, he thought hearing his father’s voice.

* * *

 

Alix curtsied to the Earl of March. His uncle, the very last Mortimer had died unlike the co-conspirators of a so called plot to bring the Lancaster House down. They claimed their crown under their ancestors Lionel Duke of Clarence (albeit they descended from the female line –Philippa Countess of Ulster and her marriage to one of the great houses who controlled the Welsh Marches –the Mortimers. Under Richard II’s regime, he had decreed that it would be the Mortimer line who would succeed him, not the Lancastrian line, yet this was forgotten soon as Henry IV put the crown above his head that holy October day, on the day of the Confessor) and Edmund Langley, Duke of York from where the young Richard got his other title. As a royal ward he had grown very far from the royal household. The king did not want him close to his son or his companions. Henry knew the boy was a serious threat from the start but unlike many kings before him, he was not about to execute him solely based on his bloodline. He would rather wait until he got involved in some treasonous act. He didn’t believe in cutting the weeds all at once. It was better to let them grow, just enough so you can feel them crawling on your skin, making their way to your neck. Blood, he found was too costly. Gave him enemies that could instead be his allies, this way by waiting for them to grow gave him justification for when they tried to strangle him, to prove to everybody how treasonous they are, and give him another reason to rally more people to his cause.

Richard kissed the hand of the future Queen of England’s hand. She was beautiful to behold. Her skin was creamy, not olive or pail, just about right and her eyes were an emerald green which seemed to shine when she stepped into the light. Her hair was so red that he thought it was on fire. ‘Fire’ He thought ironically. Their king had been burning off heretics and fighting off enemies with the fire of his canons since the war begun. Now that the war was at a close –once again thanks to him. –It was all thanks to him. He set his targets on a greater prize, cheap on paper but greater once the English people set their eyes on her.

What he wouldn’t give, the young Duke thought as his eyes pierced hers forcing her to look away blushing in embarrassment, if he was not married. Alas! He was and not just to any woman but the richest woman after the royal Duchesses, in England. Descendant of John of Gaunt and the house of Lancaster and daughter of the late Ralph Neville, Earl of Westmorland and one of the most beautiful women in England. He couldn’t begin to count his blessings when his wardship was awarded to her mother, the Countess. She was only nine and he only thirteen but what a beauty she was. She hadn’t given him any children yet but he didn’t care. He was willing to wait a lifetime just so he could enjoy her presence. Cecily was extraordinary. She ruined him for any other woman until he met this beauty.

“My ladyship, welcome to England. Allow me to introduce you to your chaplain and your new staff and of course this is my wife, Duchess Cecily. Cecily.” He spoke softly to his wife and motioned to her.

A blond haired, blue eyed woman stepped forward. She looked very similar to her youngest sister, Marguerite but there was something different of her. There wasn’t that air of defiance that her youngest sister had but her eyes shined with ambition.

“My lord.” She said sweetly kissing his cheek in an unusual display of affection. It was something very uncommon for Alix to see. Her father was always so regal, even her stepmother with all her might, knew her place. But this woman did not mind to break the rules once in a while when it came for love. “My lady. It is a pleasure.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” Alix said nodding to the Duchess, curtsying to her back.

Cecily slowly but very directly with a smile on her lips, explained. “No, no, no, you don’t have to curtsy. I curtsy to you.”

“Oh not your ladyship I could never do that. You are my superior. I must follow strict codes of conduct or else I will give credit to my status, Ovid and Homer always said the worst comes from bastards.”

Everyone was shocked to hear their future queen speak so blatantly of her status that they laughed. They escorted her to Rouen Castle where she would be staying for the remainder of the week until she boarded Hope’s Valley, the ship that would take her to Dover.

“It is beautiful.” Alix said coming down from the ship. She and the Duchess got on the carriage. The men got on separate carriages. She had no ladies with her, just two women who were not really her ladies, just women she had with her since she was a child. One of them was her former nana and the other a girl her age that had served as her companion and was now very close friends with her.

“It is. Wait until you see Westminster, it is one of the oldest palaces in the country.”

“Are all your castles this big? We have big ones in Anjou but not as big as these.” She said remarking to the high towers and archest of the churches as well, most of them done in Gothic style. Some Romanesque that still stood, she found, as they passed more of the countryside.

Cecily nodded and gave her a little history lesson of every castle. She grew bored and she sensed Cecily too after they passed the thirteenth castle and she shut down the drapes and instead changed to a more interesting subject.

“What is the king like if I could ask you?”

“You most certainly can. The king is a very good man, he is loyal and a fierce warrior, he will make you very happy and you will give him very sons.”

“That is not what I am asking.” She said, very serious. “I need to know what type of man is he. I am a bastard my lady but I am a virgin, well raised and well taught. I need to know how I can make my husband happy if I am to be a success.”

Cecily shifted uncomfortably, not feeling well of a sudden with the way this conversation was going but the future queen was so insistent and her eyes held such ferocity, she didn’t need to yell or shout to make her point across or force her way. “I cannot tell you other than what I know. My husband and I have not spent as much time in court as we would like.” She said looking intently at the queen, a secret understanding suddenly passed through both women. “My husband tells me that the king is a very generous man, I met him twice, first when my mother took me and Richard to court. I was so young I could barely remember. The second was last year before he sent my husband to Rouen.” Alix cocked her head, prompting Cecily to continue. “The king is a very hard man, war has hardened him, and I am not speaking about war with France but war with his heart. You will have to be very patient with him, be honest, true to him, tell him all your secrets and he will tell you hers and then you will be able to heal the wounds in his heart.”

Alix took her hands in hers and said an honest Thank You. At that moment the carriage stopped and the driver opened the door. “My lady we have arrived.” He said. Alix looked at Cecily. Cecily smiled and made a signal with her hands to go. Alix took her chamberlain’s hand and stepped on the small stair that had been placed for her. ‘ _So this is Greenwich_ ’. It was so big.

“Welcome to England my lady.” A strong voice said from behind. Emerging from behind the carriage was Henry V wearing the golden crow bearing a full smile on his lips.


	3. Chapter 3

 

**It's been a while since I could say that I wasn't addicted**  
& It's been a while since I could say I loved myself as well as you  
And it's been a while since I've gone and fucked things up   
It's been a while but all that shit seems to disappear when I am with you

**And everything that I can remember**  
Is fucked up as it all may seem  
The consequences that I've rendered  
Going to fuck things up again  
  
Why must I feel this way?  
Just make this go away.  
Just one more thing from me.

**It's been a while since I could  talk to myself straight**  
It's been a while since I said I was sorry  
It's been a while since I've seen the way the candles light your face  
It's been a while but I can still remember the way you taste  
  
And everything that I can remember  
Is fucked up as it all may seem  
To me, I know it is all me  
And can I blame this on my father?  
He did the best he could for me.  
  
It's been a while since I could hold my head up high  
& It's been a while since I've said I'm sorry

**It's been a while by Staind**

Alix greeted the King. She was very nervous. “Your Majesty.” She saluted, curtsying and lowering her eyes as was customary. Who knew if she would be to his liking? These things, take time, her mother said but her father didn’t have the patience for more time. He needed her now to seal the alliance and secure his borders. If she could use her influence and secure her father’s kingdom, she would be more than happy. She would finally be of some use.

Henry made the sign for her to rise. Cecily had to elbow her because her eyes were still glued to the floor. Thank you, she said very lowly to her companion. To Henry she said “It is an honor to be here.”

“On the contrary, the honor is mine. Would you like to walk?”

“Yes.”

He swung her arm around hers and accompanied her inside.

There was a lot of pageantry for the next days, Henry wanted to make sure there was no question of her legitimacy. A date was planned for her coronation but then it was postponed. “Excuse me my lady, the king would like you to know if you are comfortable in your new rooms?”

“Yes. Tell the King I love them. Will he be dining with me tomorrow?”

“No, His Majesty is too busy tomorrow but he will dine with you today, he bid me to ask you if you would like anything else, any special jewel, dress. He will make sure you have everything you need at once.”

“Tell His Majesty I am fine and here is for your good services.” She handed him a gold coin with the image of her father, the king of Anjou, Jerusalem, Sicily and god knew what else. He claimed he was the rightful king of so many countries, she had lost count.

The king was waiting for her at the head table. She knelt before the sovereign and paid him homage and brought with her new gifts she had bought from her own purse. Just because she was a bastard, did not mean she was completely dependent on her father. She was not some daddy’s girl like the other princesses that had come before her. Her mother, granddaughter of merchants through her mother’s side had taught her the value of money and good spending. ‘Cost and worth are two different things’ She’d said. ‘You better learn to spend each good’. The king gave the seal of approval. She took her seat next to him, next to her was the newly invested Prince of Wales, also named Henry.

_He looks so much like his father_. But there was a bit of her mother in him, his hair was a lighter reddish than his father’s. She remembered what Cecily Neville had told her. ‘You will have to be patient with the king. The king is a stubborn and hard man, he has been a war for a long time, and not physical war but war with his heart’.

She would have to thread carefully if she wanted to win his heart. She ate her meal in silence, watching the minstrels and courtiers dancing at the tune they played. The king loved every amusement that would be presented to him but he was also strict, considerably stricter than the French King. He had allowed for women to dance with necklines so low you could almost see the line separating their breasts, this king was different. He wanted his court to behave respectfully, to be the epitome of morality. A new Eden. Alice frowned as she watched some of the ladies. They were all so careful with their speeches. Their clothes were so massive and their sleeves so long they looked more like walking curtains than gowns. Alix looked down at hers. It was not very long. Her sleeves were of a lesser length, they certainly didn’t drop to the floor! Than theirs. But her skirts were just as long, if not longer thanks to her new ladies recommendation that that was what the king would like. ‘Screw the king’ Cecily had said. ‘Make the king like what you like. You are the queen now, people will rally behind you and follow you to the ends of the earth’. She wasn’t certain of her power. Queens in France had considerable more power than the ones in England. English queens could patronize works and be involved in charity, in France many of the queens, kings had married were queens in their own right and had brought more to the marriage than any other woman. She was just a bastard –a royal bastard but a bastard nonetheless. She felt so little sitting next to all these people and staring down at her own figure and then at the women below. Yet she couldn’t help feel some satisfaction as she watched them wrinkle their noises and look away, holding their chins up high. She was higher than them now. She was going to be their queen, not just another English consort placed in the background to suit her husband’s whim but The Queen. His equal.

She smiled with this knowledge, mimicking her father’s smile and resting her hands at her lap.

* * *

 

Henry was nervous about hurting his young bride. She was only a child. Sixteen. She looked younger. He had seen how well she carried herself as she progressed into the Abbey. She stopped every two minutes to wave at everyone, smiling as she passed the citizens of London gathered in the streets, curious to meet their new queen. She was not timid like her predecessor or proud.

Henry ignored the cheers and cries from the crowds gathered around them as they exit the Abbey. The ceremony had gone rather quickly as he had intended and he hoped time would pass him by for the feast as well.

Cecily felt pity for the girl. Sitting next to her were the Prince of Wales who had taken her father’s place and walked her into the church to marry his father and her brothers in law, among them their wives, most notably Eleanor Cobham, Duchess of Gloucester who didn’t spare a moment notice to outshine the queen and everyone boasting of her new gown and hat and just about everything else she could think. Cecily hated her. The woman was a show off and her husband was too much of an idiot to notice it.

Fool. There were even rumors that she consorted with the devil and the baby in her belly was not his. Cecily knew better than to believe in gossip but it was whispered by everyone that it had to be true. She asked her husband if he would bear witness to the consummation. He shook his head.

“No. The king wants to do this alone.”

“No witnesses?”

“None.”

“But it is tradition.” Cecily objected.

“The king doesn’t care. He just wants to get it over with. Just look at the poor bloke, he killed my father and so many other Frenchmen but he is as cold as a fish in lake-water when it comes to his beautiful wife. Poor girl, she might end up like our old queen.”

“Oh Richard just let that go.”

“I am not complaining. He gave his heart and soul to her and look what she did. This queen is not yet seventeen, god knows what she will do if she tires of him. It was a bad idea to marry so soon.”

“He had to marry someone and he rejected all the other wives.” Cecily said, deeply worried for the queen. “What if she never conceives?”

“The throne passes to his son.” Richard said simply.

“However,” he added “his son is the son of a notorious whore and if someone were brave enough to raise that point up …” He let it linger there, taking his time to finish his meal and the ale off his goblet. “Richard III and queen Cecily Neville, has a nice ring to it doesn’t it?”

She slapped his shoulder playfully. Half serious, half joking, she said “Don’t be saying those things.” Yet she entertained the idea for the rest of the night. Queen Cecily and king Richard … Ha! If only they were that lucky!

* * *

 

Alix unstripped. Her staff had been dismissed. The door opened and the king entered, equally stripped, wearing only a chemise.

He didn’t look away. He ordered the priest to come in and get it over it. Bless the bed and leave so he could do the deed.

Henry advanced, stopping when they were inches apart to take a good look at her before he took her to bed. She was beautiful, underdeveloped. Her breasts were not yet saggy or full as older women’s were, they were small, but growing. And her legs -they gave the impression they were long as the rest of her body but it was all well-proportioned. Rounded curves, not too small or big, but just the right size and her face was perfectly oval with a delicate chin and rosy cheeks, and the rest of her skin the color of porcelain and her eyes the color of sapphire and then her hair. When she came it was hidden behind a tall headdress and a long transparent veil, now it was loose, wildly cascading past her shoulders down to her hips. It was the color of flames.

He took a step back and took off his chemise. “My lady.” He made a signal for her to lie on the bed. She did so, looking down as she waited.

“No.” He said tipping her chin.

“Your Majesty?”

“We don’t have to do this today.” He said. Alice opened her mouth, her lips quivered as she struggled to say something but nothing … There was nothing … The king didn’t want her. He found her disgusting. Her presence was too shameful for him.

“I-I see.” She gathered her clothes and traveled to the next room where her ladies were preparing her chamber for the following nights. She told them politely she would not need them and locked herself inside. When they were all out, she cried.

_‘Marry him. Please him.’_ How stupid she was? He would never stop seeing her as a bastard. Even when she came, he still looked down on her whenever she made conversation. His son was no better but at least he was honest in his opinion of her. She rested her back against the oak doors and didn’t sleep that night. She waited for the sun to come until her eyes finally started closing and she was about to fall asleep when …

“My lady!” The king knocked furiously at her door. Alice, startled, jumped and opened the door. Her hair was disheveled. She looked hideous, like a wild beast but not to Henry. She looked to him like one of the Valkyries, the fighting women he read in the Germanic tales when he was a kid.

“I am sorry for my irrational behavior tonight. I have insulted you, please let me finish.” She closed her mouth. “I wish to make it up to you. If you wish, we could resume tonight, or any other night.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t blame you if you say no. I want things to be good between us. We are man and wife now, we should get along if not for our country, then for our sake because it is for our sake and the country’s sake that we should.”

She furrowed her brow. “Excuse me but … what?”

“Ha-ha.” Henry chuckled. “may I come in?”

Alix let him in. “Alix, I want us to love one another, if not now then I hope in the near future. I want to make you happy Alice, I want you to be my lady.”

Alix was stunned. “I am just a bastard.” Why did he even chose her?

He guessed the question that was running through her mind and said "You are my queen and a king's daughter. That is good enough for me. I chose you because you were of noble blood and because you are the most beautiful woman I laid eyes on. If it isn't too much of a bother with you, I would like to call you Alice."

"Alice." He repeated. "Can I call you Alice?"

She nodded. 

"Alice" he said using her new name, liking how it sounded. "Can I kiss you?"

She nodded and he leaned forward and locked his lips with hers. "You are very beautiful Alice, as beautiful as the marches in Wales and as beautiful as heaven and an angel fallen from Mt. Olympus."

She knitted her brow. “Do you … always speak in riddles?”

He chuckled again. He shook his head lightly. “No, not always.”

“Did you use riddles for her?”

His face became serious and thoughtful. He hadn’t given much thought to Kate until now. What would she say? She was probably in hell laughing at his misery or working beyond the grave with some dark spirits to ruin this marriage. He had loved Kate, he convinced himself that’s how he felt about her when he met her. But now rethinking his thoughts he realized he never truly loved Kate. He loved the idea of her, he fashioned himself a knight in love and she a fair maiden rescued from the angry dragon that was her mad father by her fair and charming prince, mounting his white horse and bringing her to his kingdom to crown her his queen. It was a delightful fantasy nonetheless. And one Henry intended to keep even now as he committed to his new wife. _His beautiful wife._

 “What do you say?” He asked again, cupping her face with his two hands. For a seasoned soldier, his hands were warm and possessed none of that soldier’s coarseness.

She smiled and blinked, put his hands down and took her chemise off, stepped forward, and kissed his lips.

* * *

 

Marguerite sunk in her chair. At ten she was one of the brightest pupils in the schoolroom, a credit to her gender. But today no praise from the schoolmaster could pacify the Princess’ temper. Henry had not replied to her last letter. She told her mother that he didn’t want to talk to her anymore. Rene of Anjou, titular King of Jerusalem and so much more that had been promised to him, told him his father must surely be behind this. “Your betrothed could never be against you. Listen to your father. Henry would never want to stop talking to you. You are a bright girl and you made quite an impression.”

“I did, didn’t I?”

At ten she shined with the brilliance that had characterized her mother and so many of her female ancestors. “Who could reject you? Write to the Prince again. Tell him you’re anxious to meet him. Don’t make yourself too obvious. And write to your sister too.”

“Do I have to?” She hunched her shoulders and made a scene. Rene sighed and slapped on his leg, telling her to sit. “Maggie, Alice is your sister.” He said, using their English names for when they behaved badly. It was the one thing that got them angry and made them listen to him. “The Queen of England, when you go to marry Prince Harry, she will be your better. It is imperative you patch up relations with her. You do want to be Queen, don’t you and help your father?”

“I do, more than anything.”

“Then write to your sister.” He encouraged. “Tell her how much you miss her and how you want to be with her. Remind her of your kingdom’s woes and your father’s woes. Can you do that?” Marguerite nodded and went to do it.

Harry received another letter from Marguerite. Alice had allowed him to write to Marguerite again. His father was a tough man to convince but Alice managed it. She wanted the best for her stepson and Harry was a sweet boy. It was a shame that she was Henry’s firstborn. There would be so much good done for the country if he wasn’t. The boy was more suited for the life of a scholar or as a monk than as a future king.

* * *

 She rested her feet on the cushion. In three weeks she would enter confinement and go through her toughest ordeal. Henry was already acting like a mother hen. Poor dear, he was a nervous wreck. He was doing everything to prevent this baby from being born too sickly, too small and above all, to be taken by death like so many others from his previous wife.

You won’t die, will you? -She spoke to her son. The baby bump was becoming more visible under her large furs and open laced gowns. Trimmed with gold and silver she wore one of the richest fabrics ever worn by queens, she was the envy of the whole court and ambassadors came to greet her, offering her their prayers and their good will for the child she carried inside her. She didn’t have much patience for fools –she asked Henry if she could be alone when confinement came, with only a select few. He furrowed his brow and asked her why. She told him the truth just like Cecily Neville had told her to. She didn’t want to be the center of attention, she thought all these rituals too much and that they made her feel so poor and ugly inside. As queen of the most pious king, she wanted to emulate him in piety and humility, she wanted to be more than just a queen but a mother and pilgrim to her new people.

Henry was overtaken with emotion and rose his eyebrows in admiration. ‘Of course’ He said ‘Whatever you wish’. And arranged her to have special rooms built for her with little luxury but still allowed for the best foods to be brought to her at her own request and the richest fabrics and furs for her ladies, among them Duchess Cecily. Alice had insisted especially on her. She hadn’t forgotten how kind and welcome she made her feel.

Duchess Cecily helped tuck blankets under her cushions when she changed seats. She didn’t like this castle. The mythical seat of King Arthur, the King had chosen it especially for her. She represented what Katherine Valois did not –rebirth. Alice thanked her and gave a long sigh, stretching her legs and crossing her arms against her swollen belly, feeling the warmth of her seat seep in.

It was times like these that she missed her husband. Seeing the Duke and Duchess so happy with one another, she found herself wishing she and Henry could have the same intimacy. She had started calling him Hal because he allowed it but it was not the same. She wanted more out of their marriage.

“How is your daughter?” She asked. Cecily Neville had given birth to a daughter two years after she had arrived in England. It was a beautiful daughter. Alice had insisted to be there when she was born, so she could learn a thing or two about birthing. The rest of her ladies fell when they saw the blood and the pink bubbles coming from the woman’s slit as it opened squeezing the baby out. Alice found it fascinating. She helped the midwives cut the umbilical cord. (That was the easy part). And give the baby to her mother. The hardest part was seeing Cecily detach herself from her baby after her husband came unannounced and mutter in her ear, words only Alice could guess but she was sure expressed how much he loved her and how happy he was that in spite of her sex, he had a child who was healthy. Her mother had nursed her, or so her father said. She wouldn’t let any human hands but her own touch her and she fed her from her own breast so the bond that existed between them would strengthen. Alice didn’t believe in folklore but she had seen how many women who nursed their own children were closer to their children then women who didn’t. Yet here was the Duchess of York, she had just gone through a whole ordeal, given birth to a healthy child and she had given her daughter to strangers to take care of her. Alice was unsure if she could do that. ‘You will’. She could hear her mother’s voice in the guise of her conscience. ‘You are a queen now. You must act like it. These people will not put up with your antics like your father did.’

“My daughter is doing fine Your Majesty, I am glad you asked. My husband bought her a house near the Marches. I think Your Majesty will like it. You can come and visit her when you please and bring your children when you have more if you’d like.”

As with everything Duchess Cecily said, there was a double meaning to her words that Alice didn’t miss. She never missed anything. She smiled at the Duchess complacently and said, “Of course. Me and the King would love the idea. Now to see if I give birth to a daughter so your daughter can have a companion closer to her age.”

“You don’t want a son?”

“I would, more than anything. I want to please the king and do my good deed for my country but I am afraid my side of the family is not very productive as your House my lady. My mother only had

daughters, I was the only one to reach adulthood and my father’s legal produced mostly daughters. I am afraid I am cursed with the same reproductive system.”

“Do not say that.” Cecily said, feeling genuine sympathy for the poor Queen. She welcomed the idea of the queen having a son. If she did it could mean a union between both their houses and putting an end to this bitter quarrel. “I descend from an illegitimate branch of the Lancaster House through my mother but the King whom you married descends from a legitimate line and stronger stock. His mother Mary of Bohun gave the King many sons, your husband included. The Plantagenets are a fertile brood, you are very lucky to marry one of them.”

“But the queen, my husband’s late queen, she didn’t give him more than one son didn’t she?”

“Do not speak of her, Your Majesty.” She told the girl sitting next to her and placing her hand on top of hers. “It’s better not to burden yourself with those unnecessary worries. The queen was a bad woman who did a foolish thing, God has already punished for it. There is no need in reopening those wounds, it will add more stress on you and on your child.” She looked down on her belly.

Alice dropped the subject. The following month they had spent waiting in her chamber, with the occasional short walks on the gardens, for the queen to deliver her child. The king was becoming worried that the day would never come. It was like he was cursed in perpetual stagnation. Was he destined to be the father of a broken dynasty? Humphrey’s wife Eleanor had not given him any sons and John had only one daughter and Thomas refused to marry. Harry was his heir, and admirable as his piety was he didn’t possess the leadership skills to be king! It was imperative he had a son now to make his dynasty more secure. He would not go down in history as the king who let his dynasty die.

* * *

Alice screamed waking everyone in the castle. Her ladies and midwives were rushed in her chambers with the priests waiting in the outer chambers for any news of her condition. The doctors were there in case they were needed, but they seldom were. Birth was strictly a woman’s business. It was considered unclean for a man to witness such thing.

“Breathe … breathe …” Cecily’s soothing voice crept through her ears and helped her through the ordeal as she was told by the more bossy midwives she had to push.

She took on the Duchess hand and with her other held on to the sheets, digging her fingernails in the mattress, piercing through the thick fibers as she felt her slit open and a piercing pain through her sheath that felt like thousand daggers pierced her there as she expelled the child.

The midwives cried they could see the head. “One more push!” They told her and Alice screamed, giving the final push that released the child.

Alice felt tired, she didn’t hear the happy cries from the midwives and her ladies as they saw the baby’s body and cleaned him before they presented him to his mother. She could feel herself slipping as she saw the lights in the room fade away, she let darkness take her but one cry woke her.

She opened her eyes and looked around the room. Nothing had changed except the covers. They were different, clean just as the new mattress she lay in now. “Where am I …” She said in a broken voice. “Where is my daughter?” She asked at once.

Cecily came into the room bearing a happy expression, carrying a large white bundle wrapped in silks and other fabrics in her arms. Alice stretched her arms. “My daughter …”

Her heart leapt when she was presented to her. She cooed as she rubbed her nose against the little one’s porcelain nose and spoke kindly to it. “My bel accidente.” My little accident. She said. “You are the sweetest thing that ever happened to me. Yes, you are. Yes you are.” She said indulging it with laughter which her daughter found very contagious.

Cecily Neville laughed kind heartily at the queen. She had never seen such display of affection in a royal before. Sure, her husband was affectionate and so was Duchess Anne to her little daughter, but none of them were like this. She cleared her throat. Alice turned to her. “I am sorry to interrupt Your Majesty but it’s not a daughter you gave birth to. It is a son.”

“A son?” She looked at the other ladies and midwives around her for confirmation. They all nodded their head. “A son.” She said. She lifted the covers and saw the undeniable proof of the Duchess’ claims.

Ha-ha! She laughed. She had given birth to a son! Oh my God. She laughed harder and lifted her son in her arms then brought his lips to her forehead. He played with her auburn curls as she lowered him down, smiling wider as she felt her happiness increase with each passing moment. “I have a son.”

“How long was I out?”

“Two days. My husband sent word to the King’s brothers to tell your husband of your relapse and of the glorious news; he is bound to come any day.”

Alice didn’t care. She thanked the Duchess and asked the rest of her ladies to leave her alone. She wanted to enjoy the few moments she had left with her son before he was sent away for his own establishment. Cecily felt very happy for the Queen. All her prayers had been answered. The queen had what she wanted. The future of the Lancaster House was secure and so was her friend's.

* * *

 

Many of her ladies stayed with her during the period of her churching, her reentry into the secular world. It was a spectacular affair, pageants and white doves flew out of the church as she emerged dressed in the finest silks and wearing gold on her ears and neck and fingers. Precious gemstones decorated her dress and hair and the cape which Henry had insisted she wear, to establish her legitimacy to the world.

She had given Henry a second son, a Duke of Lancaster for the people to rally on and love after he was gone. A substitute should anything happen to the Prince of Wales.

But to the country it meant something more. The queen they had welcomed so openly had betrayed their trust. Her good birth, her good name, her good family meant nothing to them now. This girl who was born out of discord and sin had proven herself more pious and trustworthy than her predecessor. Perhaps it was a blessing, perhaps it was a sign –some really saw it that way- that God had sent them an angel from the lowest scale of society to right all the wrongs the she-wolf in sheep’s skin had done.

One day, she hoped, she would be greeted by bigger crowds.  Henry had stalled her coronation for years. He wanted to make it clear he wasn't making the same mistake again. She was going to be crowned  _after_  she proved herself. She didn't have to wait for long now. It was only a matter of time before the babe grew, his limbs became chubbier and his cheeks became rosier and they recognized that she could give birth to more healthy babies. Then she would be crowned. She could picture it now: Blue birds, white doves, red roses and white and her favorite, the daisies. Diamonds and rubies to adorn her hair and on her veil there would be powdered gold and she would emerge from the abbey not as a queen, but as The queen, vested with the royal regalia that queens wore on her coronation. She would be queen of England, loved and respected by all.

Duchess Cecily had been with her through her toughest moments and now she accompanied her as the ladies head back to her residence where she had given birth, to go back to London. She said how much she missed her husband, how terrified she was every night that she didn't spend with him. "How long have you known him?"

"Since we were kids. My mother was granted his custody after Waterton died."

"Waterton?"

"His former caretaker. He was a nice man, strict but nice. My mother took care of him after he died. He grew very close to me and my sisters. Initially my mother thought it would have been better if she married my sister Anne."

"Cow Anne?" Alice raised an eyebrow. _‘Go away you stupid cow!’_  when she told her to hold her breath because that made the pain of birth much easier. How stupid! Where the hell did she get this information? Her own births? Clearly not. It was a wonder any woman survived birth here with advice as stupid as that! She had been so harsh on Cecily’s sister, yelling to her but seriously! Who gave advice like that?  _'Breathe fast then stop breathing until the pain stops?'_ It was so stupid. She giggled at the memory. 

Cecily joined her. "My sister was too big and already betrothed to the Duke of Buckingham, you probably don't remember him but he was this tall man, strapping shoulders." She made signs with her hands, describing him.

Alice's mouth formed a small 'o'. "Humphrey Stafford, yes, he was on my husband's entourage when they went to France last summer yes. I remember him. Very nice man, but a bit slow."

"Yes. If it wasn't for his dukedom my mother would've never betrothed Anne to him but Anne always said she could take on any man, make him into a Prince she said." Both women laughed. 

"So how did you convince your mother to marry Richard?"

"I didn't. He did."

"But he was thirteen when he came to live with you."

"Yes." Cecily said, thinking sarcastically how observant the queen was. "But he decided he wanted to marry me from the start. He had heard of our betrothal years before and the king had given the sign of approval, so there was no reason to go back."

"But he could have said no if he wanted."

"He could but that would have been so far beneath him. Richard is not the kind of man that does that. I learned that when he came to live with us. If he makes a promise, he will go to the ends of the earth to keep it."

"You are very lucky to have him then."

"I am, I really am Your Majesty. Not a day goes by that I don't give thanks to our Lord Jesus Christ for it. When we die we will be buried together with a papal indulgence on our necks."

"Why a papal indulgence?"

"We are not blind to what lives we lead."

"What do you mean? You and the Duke lead good lives, I have never seen any of you done anything questionable."

"No, not now but the court is filled with intrigue, even if you never do something wrong, people will still find some way to implicate you in some crime or treasonous act to get rid of you. If that happens we want to be ready for it. A papal indulgence erases all our sins, real and imagined."

"That is some good insurance. You sound a lot like my mother my lady. My mother has issued for one herself though I have told her there is no need. What she has done is between her and her confessor and it is up to God to forgive her."

"Be careful with those ideas my lady, they might mistake you for a Lollard."

"I know." Alice said, knowing all too well the danger of speaking heretic ideas aloud. "I wish you and my mother could meet each other my lady, you two would get really along. She is very pious as you, she's been done penance ever since her illicit union with my father."

"I would be honored to meet the mother of an illustrious lady like you. I've heard many good things about her and her family. There are among the first families in Anjou and one of the wealthiest in France."

"Yes, though that is thanks to my maternal grandparents, they were the second richest family in Florence once. They saved my father's family from bankruptcy. Every penny I have is thanks to them."

They kept talking. Anne heard them behind the door. She shook her head in disapproval hearing them talking so openly about their families. This queen did not know the meaning of 'secrecy'. Instead of keeping things to herself, she loved blurting everything out. 

Queen Katherine had her faults but at least she kept things to herself. She didn't mind people making fun of her. She had more important things to worry about. But she was surprised that Cecily joined on the queen's fun. What was she up to?

* * *

 Alice was welcomed into London by her husband who had waited for her impatiently in the capital while personally overseeing his son’s care. Unlike Henry, he didn’t want his son to be placed too far from them. He wanted to keep an eye on him, at least until it was safe for him to have his own establishment. Alice was thankful for this. She couldn’t imagine departing from her son. The last four weeks without him had been torture.

 He was named John Arthur after the founder of the Lancaster dynasty and the mythical king who had united all of Britain.

Henry stepped to the balcony and watched as she entered his palace. He gave her an encouraging smile when she entered the Great Hall. Greenwich looked more radiant. Lilies, roses, white, red, and her favorite, the daisies (a flower she had taken as her personal emblem). “My lady you look magnificent.”

“How were the roads? I hope you and your ladies didn’t encounter any travels.”

“We had to stay in an Inn on the way here, I am sure you’ve heard.”

“I did. Did you encounter some of the protestors?”

“No, the people were very kind. We did hear some commotion coming our way but nothing out of the ordinary.”

“I will order guards to be put at every royal residence. If you and your ladies need to travel, I will redouble your guard and punish all those who give you trouble.”

“There is no need to be so harsh. The rebels are just gullible, they are being led astray but this Jack Cade persona. Hungry bellies creates monsters out of all men.”

“You are a scholar my lady but I don’t trust these people. If you’ve lived here as long as I have, you’d known the people are never happy. If I was younger I would talk to them myself but-“

“Why don’t you?”

“Ha, ha, Alice I was only joking.”

“Why don’t you?” She asked again, pausing to sit down. “Your people are angry Henry. I don’t intend to tell you how to do your job-“

“Then don’t.” Henry said with forced courtesy.

“But imagine how people would look at you if you show them you care like in your glorious days of Agincourt. I grew up hearing of those tales. I remember thinking if I would be swooped off my feet by a man like that.” She gave a dreamy sigh. “If you respond to them with love they will respond you with love too.” She took his hand and placed it on her knee which felt smooth because of the long silk and gold dress she was wearing. She paired it with a long cone headdress with dark veil (a sign of elegancy and piety). “Love, Henry is the greatest weapon.” She said and gave him a gentle squeeze.

* * *

 The following year Henry galloped with a strong cavalry of a thousand men which were outnumbered by Cade’s army to meet his forces in the midlands. They had been tolerated long enough. Henry had killed most of his followers but for every follower he killed two followed. He resolved if he wanted this problem to be dealt with, he would have to follow his wife's advice.

His forces were well equipped and with some of the best generals at his command, they could crush the larger rebel army in minutes. But as the rebels prepared their spikes and psythes, ready to charge on them, their king surprised them.

Taking down his gauntlet, his helmet and throwing his crown, he stepped down from his horse and walked to meet them.

Cade and his men stopped as he was inches away from one of their spikes. Smiling mentally at their confusion, he put a humble face. “I come to you not as a king my men but as one of you.”

“If you are one of us, why direct us as your men, why send more of our good men to die for your expensive wars? Why?”

“Because I was protecting our patrimony, your patrimony. You are my subjects by divine right, but God only gives me this power, this privilege to be your king because you let me. True power lies in your hands. You are exercising it right now. If you want to kill me today, kill me and nobody shall hold it against you. Nobody.” He said, pressing both lips together as he waited for their response.

His eyes twinkled and he smiled, feeling a merry glee that Cade just inches away from him did not miss. He was controlling the masses, he had them right where he wanted. Just like the skippy king would do, just like his great-grandfather Edward III.

“I took the crown of France, I held it on my hands and it was something marvelous but something that brought me pain and that pain was transplanted to you. I am a man whose wife … fucked another man behind my back and you all mocked me and rightly so. I am a soldier just like you, a farmer, a shepherd, I am all of you. But one thing I am not is a husband. And that made me less than a man. Because to be called a man you need more than strength and prowess, I had all of these but I didn’t have the strength or the honor to right the wrongs I did to my wife.”

“You should’ve killed the French bitch.”

“No good comes from any woman.”

“I would’ve killed her then raped her corpse if she did that to me.”

“I would’ve set her on fire.” Another one said and everyone joined him shouting “Set her on fire!”

It is no use –thought Henry, then he heard his wife’s voice. ‘The greatest power of all is love. Win them over Henry.’

With a resolute look he gazed at all of them, his eyes penetrating theirs and there was something powerful in those eyes that made everyone step back, including Jack Cade. “What is done is done my brothers. Your king was shamed and there is nothing we can do to remedy it, but we can work together for the future. Your leader Jack Cade took on the name Mortimer. A brave act my lord, very brave. Worthy of a nobleman, but you have made my courtier and cousin the Duke of York very nervous. Some could rally behind him and claim he wants to steal my crown. Some might even say this was his idea. If I were dumb enough to believe it and I thank God I am not, I would kill him right now.” He pointed behind him were the young Duke was, seated on a white horse, the same color the king’s horse was and wearing his own livery.

“The duke of York is a good master to us but this is not his rebellion, Your Majesty does not need to take more vengeance against the innocent.”

“I take no vengeance and I take no part in any quarrel sir.” Henry said angrily, his eyes piercing Cade’s. “If you want to strike me down, do. As I said there will be no vengeance or punishment brought down on you. But take in mind that if you strike me down you will plunder the land you love so much. My son is worthy of his crown but there are many just as your leader who in spite of his bravery will do everything to see him deposed and install someone they control. Remember to the days of queen Isabella when the menace of France swayed your ancestors with sweet words and false promises. How many good men died for her? How much did she change? Nothing! Follow this man you will have nothing but misery. Stay with me and I promise you as God as my witness that I will work tirelessly to meet all of your demands.”

The people looked at each other with uncertainty. The king, taking advantage of this, turned his back and head back to his white horse, mindful that every step he took could be his last but when he was handed back the crown he’d thrown, he smiled. Victory was his again.

* * *

 

Alice was striking her flat belly, there was a glee in her eyes that couldn't be missed. Cade had been arrested and abandoned by all his followers and soon died of disgrace and to make matters better for them, Henry had resumed his marital duties and got her with child again. In addition, to stop the gossip about the Duke of York, in the year of our Lord 1441, Henry granted him the post of Lord Lieutenant of Normandy, giving him back Rouen, this time as his permanent residence. 

Things couldn't have worked out better. She thought.

She went to the royal nursery Henry had set up for their son. John was there playing with his big fluffy toys held by his uncle John, Duke of Bedford. 

He had grown two inch; his uncle and namesake remarked. For a one year old he was also very clever. “He will be a tall lad. Sit on your uncle's lap. Let me get a better look at you boy. You have your father's nose and his eyes and that wavy hair, that is definitely him. Do you have his legs though?" He set him down on the ground. The baby struggled to walk. His brother Harry boasted he could walk when he was less than a month old. He said his eyes were already wide and alert. But for the month old baby who would one day inherit the richest holding in England, he was still too young to care or understand what his brother was saying. “That’s it. Don’t trip. Walk. You can do it.”

John Arthur managed to do his last step before his uncle took him in his arms and played with him. “That’s our boy. He is very strong. I can his tiny fingernails on my skin. Ow!”

His nurse took him from his uncle’s arms and placed him back in his cradle. “Damn, he is going to be a feisty one!”

“Just like his father.” Alice said smiling brightly at her baby who perked his head up. His head spun in his father’s direction who placed a finger on his lips, telling him to be quiet not to upset uncle John.

“God help us.”

“Come John. I wasn’t that bad.”

“No, you just went around saying how awesome you were and giving father lot of headaches. I hope he doesn’t your same temper. One Hal is enough for me.”

“I find it rather exciting. It is always the feisty ones that turn out to be more interesting. Just look at your brother right here. Took France in less than five years and gave the greatest speech at Azincourt.”

“My dearest wife, you have been keeping with your history books.” He said kissing her cheek.

“I have a good teacher, I just wish the professor you hired would be more patient. It is too much details for me to absorb in one lesson.”

“I am sure you can. You have quite an aptitude for remembering things.” Henry said standing beside her, watching their son play with his covers. Hiding underneath him and popping out whenever he wanted to give a loud giggle that seemed so similar to his own it was maddening. There was very little of his mother in him, she had her smile, her lips, her skin, but he had his spirit and his other physical features.

“But those things are important to me. These things are not. I don’t get it why must there be such demand on my sex to learn all these things if I am just play a ceremonial role. It is unfair.”

“Who said it is unfair? I think it is very fair. My wife Anne had to learn these things since childhood and she enjoys it.”

“Because she was made to enjoy them.” Alice pointed out. “The book of behavior says that a royal wife must be chaste, pious, educated in music, talented in singing, dancing and an erudite in all other forms of artwork and scholarship but not too much so that she doesn’t shame her husband.”

“Exactly, it offers women an opportunity to blend in other spheres.” John said and Henry agreed with him. But Alice shook her head. “What spheres John?” She said. “Women still have the same sphere they had before. Our role as mothers and daughters and wives are no different when Eve was conceived out of Adam’s rib than now. The only difference it is we have to bear the burden of giving birth to humanity. A woman who can sing, read, and read in a certain way I might add, and express herself in such a way that she appears great but not too great or else she is arrogant –I don’t know any woman like that. Do you, Henry?”

“I do. You.”

That shut her up. John laughed and clapped his hands at his brother. Alice turned and narrowed her gaze.

“Henry say something!”

“I am sorry dear but you’re wrong. There is no woman like her except for you. Look at you, you came with almost no knowledge on English history and French history and now look at you” He placed both hands on her shoulders. “You are a scholar amongst women, an erudite that would put all my best ones to shame. You even put me to shame.”

“Don’t say that. I am not.”

“You are. You just don’t want to admit it and that’s fine because it makes you even more perfect in my eyes.” He said and kissed her brow and left with her brother who was still laughing.

Ugh. She put her arms on her hips. Men!

* * *

 

 

Cecily knocked on the open door. She looked scared, almost ashamed. Alice smiled sympathetically and told her to enter. She rose and kissed both of the Duchess’ cheeks.

“My lady, I beg your forgiveness. My husband and I have been so busy, you understand, getting everything ready to move to Normandy, readying the garrison-“

Alice waved her hand dismissively. “You don’t have to explain anything of that to me. You’re my friend my lady, you and your husband were the first people that welcomed me. Henry is just mad. I will talk to him so that you can stay here with me.”

“Thank you, my lady but I would like to stay by his side. If you don’t mind-“

“Of course not. I understand completely. You didn’t come all the way just to tell me this though?”

“No. I wanted to ask you a big favor.”

“Of course, anything.”

“Richard and I have been trying as you know to have a son, unfortunately no matter what we do, it just hasn’t happened. Anne is all we have. Should anything happen to us, I want you to be her guardian.”

“Of course, lady Cecily, you know you can count on me for everything.” Alice said twining her arms around the Duchess’ neck. “But you don’t have to be afraid of anything. Normandy is in safe hands. His Majesty’s brother, our Duke of Bedford has guarded it zealously for the past twenty years. You and Richard have nothing to fear.”

“It is not his life I fear it is mine. I was never very healthy as a child and I have never traveled this far.”

“You traveled from England to Anjou to meet me.”

“That was different. We only stayed there for a month. Who knows what will encounter when we are in Normandy. We haven’t been in Rouen in almost four years. So much has changed since then.” If only the queen could understand her fears. But alas! She was so young and just as she and Richard feared, so gullible. She believed in the goodness of everyone that she was blinded to the harsh realities of the real world.

Just then her daughter Anne was brought by her nurse and the queen’s son in his nurse’s arms soon followed. They were placed on the carpet where harmless toys rested. They began playing and that is when Cecily saw something. Something she hadn’t seen before.

“Oh but look who arrived here. My lady and my little lord. How are you my lady? Did you like playing with my baby boy? Did you?” Little Anne, almost two years old nodded her head.

“And you my special little man? Do you like your new companion? Do you?”

The one year old with a small movement of his head, said yes. Alice put him closer to Anne. She gave him a paper doll of a toy soldier and Anne a fluffy doll, and in front of them, built a castle with her son’s wooden blocks. “Is this the chapel? This your room?” She asked Anne. Anne nodded again, smiling openly at the young queen. “You live there all by yourself?” Anne didn’t answer. “Would you mind my son coming over? No?” Anne shook her head. Alice tickled her son and his son giggled and moved his arms around wildly, causing him to drop his paper doll where her imaginary room was.

Cecily had not told her about her future plans to betroth Anne to one of the Percys, hopefully ending her family’s long feud with them. Richard did not want her to, he thought (and rightfully so) that with the king sending him away to guard Normandy, he would say no. Cecily had not given up, if the king could not be coaxed then his wife. She was dumb enough. But now she saw someone very different.

The girl she and Richard had met in Anjou was not the same she saw now. That girl was shy, excited but shy nonetheless. Insecure, pleading for advice and speaking of nothing but saints and motherhood.

Yet here she was, in this small scene revealing Cecily her true colors. _‘Love Henry is the greatest power’._ The words were so simple, so insignificant. She thought nothing of them at the time. Just more proof of the queen’s naivety, now it all made sense.

It wasn’t the king who persuaded the rebels to hand over Cade that day –Cecily thought. –It was her.

“Will you join us lady Cecily?” Alice asked the Duchess sweetly, flashing an open smile.

The Duchess sat next to her daughter and helped her built an extra room for her castle. “My castle mama.” Anne said. She pointed to the room where the Prince had dropped his paper doll. “That be his room.”

“Where is your room?”

“That room.” She pointed to where the paper doll rested.

“That is the Prince’s room. Where is yours?”

“That one.”

“No Anne, that is the Prince, you can’t be there, you must build your own.”

“Mine!”

“Anne …”

“It’s okay lady Cecily. Anne that can be your room too.”

Anne lifted her hands and cheered, and put her doll next to the Prince’s paper doll. “Our room.” She said and looked at her mother, smiling widely.

Cecily looked from her daughter to Alice then at the two dolls lying together on that empty square and suddenly she understood.


	4. Chapter 4

_“Better the devil you know”_

_-o-_

Archbishop of Canterbury Thomas Bouchier, another distant cousin tracing back his line to Edward III, stepped forward to baptize the couple’s new baby. Thirteen years of trying, they finally had a son. After him, another son followed. They named him Edmund after the first Duke of York, Edmund of Langley, where they descended. Unlike his older brother Edward, baby Edmund was strong and he made a big fuzz when the holy waters were poured on his forehead, expelling all sin from his tiny body.

“He will make a great duke someday.” The archbishop remarked. He was a relative of Cecily’s cousin-in-law, Anne Bouchier. As a result he was fiercely loyal to his relations.

“Richard and I are grateful for everything you’ve done for us.”

“We were hoping you’d join us for dinner.” Richard said swinging his arm around Cecily when they were out of sight. “Our house will be made better by your presence.”

“I am flattered but I am afraid the king requests my presence at once. I leave immediately in an hour. I hope to reach him by tomorrow in Dover.”

“It sounds very urgent. Does the queen know you are here?” Cecily inquired, curious.

“The queen does. She knows everything. Cardinal Beaufort is delighted of course, he thinks he controls the king through the queen, but the Cardinal is an idiot. Twenty years in the service of Lancaster kings, and he still hasn’t learned there is no controlling these Henrys. They have their own minds and one thing is certain about them –you don’t want to be on their bad side.”

“Every king has a weakness your eminence. His father’s was his taxes and asserting his claim over the senior claim of Roger Mortimer, a claim some still recognize as better than the king’s I might say and this Henry –well I’m not sure what his weakness is but he must have one.”

“That is very bold talk.” The archbishop warned.

“I am only stating the facts.” Richard said casually entering their home. Cecily gave their newborn to his nurse.

Thomas frowned at this. Who was he to judge –he thought. –But the women were supposed to stay confined in their bedrooms until their churching. This break in protocol really upset him.

Richard’s voice brought him back from his train of thought. “My wife says the queen guards her son and our daughter zealously. Is this true?”

“It is.”

“How is my daughter your eminence? Is she good? Cecily writes constantly to the queen. From the time her letters arrive she and her entourage have already moved to another residence. There is so much we have missed.”

“Your daughter will still be the same when you come back if that is what you are worried. The queen is a doting mother to her son, she takes good care of your daughter and with her another baby on the Lancaster cradle she will insist on sending your son to keep her company.”

“Edward?” Richard grinned. The queen was ambitious. He would’ve thought of this himself if he wasn’t too worried about his eldest son’s health.

“No.” Thomas said killing Richard’s joy. “Edmund.”

“But he is a second son.”

“The queen knows and most importantly the king knows this too.”

“The king still thinks I was behind Cade.” Richard said. It wasn’t a question.   

“Your son would help unite both houses. You should be proud.”

“I will only be proud until my name gets cleared Archbishop.” Richard said. “The king thinks I am a traitor, just like my father. But I am no turn cloak. He wants my son, fine, but he has to promise me a grander wife for my eldest. I won’t settle for less.”

“I will see what I can do.” Archbishop Thomas said leaving the Duke’s home and sailing back to England. There, he told the royal couple the Duke’s answer.

The king laughed raucously and the queen joined him with a small smile. “Tell the Duke of York we have the perfect bride for his son in mind. The king of France has just had a daughter, Princess Madeline. I’ve already sent my messengers to negotiate the marriage. If everything goes according to plan the Duke will find himself father in law to one of the richest heiresses in Europe.”

“The richest?” Alice said with a raised eyebrow.

“One of the richest.” Henry reworded. “I haven’t forgotten our little rose, my love.” He said giving her a kiss, a little peck in the cheek.

 “Draft up the papers for the betrothal Archbishop, I want them in my desk by tomorrow. We will celebrate our children’s union next month.”

“But Your M-majesty the children are not even …”

“Tut, tut, stuttering doesn’t do you eminence. The Duke will agree with whatever my plans are. As soon as the papal dispensation comes, the king will send his daughter to the Duke, she and young Edward can marry when she comes of age. Everyone happy.”

The archbishop stepped aside to let the nurse come in. The queen took the child from her arms and rocked her back and forth. The queen of England acted like a true matron. She was

He didn’t think it would be so easy. The man was highly ambitious and he was less likely to be pleased with just being someone’s royal relation. The man wanted something more than being pushed into a side corner. He wanted power and he wanted it now. He was after all the Duke of York, descendant of Edmund of Langley and Lionel of Clarence. From the latter he stemmed his claim to the royal throne, a claim many mocked because it was derived from the female line but didn’t the king once said kings were made as they pleased by men who were bold enough to take what they wanted? If the Duke of York proved to be as bold as he claimed he could be the next king of England. Heck! The next ruler of France! He had it in him to be great. Their king was aging while the Duke of York was still young and handsome and he possessed all of the virtues that made Henry so popular in his youth.

He wrote to his cousin, the Duchess of York’s niece in law. Since her marriage to the Earl of Salisbury’s eldest son, Richard Neville, she had become one of the wealthiest women in the land. –A heiress in her own right, she had brought into their marriage the earldom of Warwick and made her husband one of the richest landowners. He informed her of the recent developments and cautioned her not to accept any offer the king made. It was treasonous, he wrote. If she wanted to help her family, she would do exactly as he told her and with time she would see her family reap off all the benefits of her uncle’s success.

_That is if he wins_.

He shook off these thoughts. Of course he would succeed. The Duke of York was a great man, young and cunning. More cunning than the King. He would succeed where the King had failed and his wife was of a fertile stock, she was likely to have more children.

* * *

 

“My sister thinks herself the Queen of England.”

Henry laughed. “And my son thinks himself as King. They’d make an awesome couple.”

“Ha, ha. They will have to wait up in line. The Duke of York also covets your crown. He is determined to marry his son to our daughter and take up your crown. He won’t settle for less.”

“How is the Duchess?”

“Good. Why do you ask? You’re not plotting something evil are you?” Alice asked carefully.

Henry smiled. He shook his head and reassured her that wasn’t his intention. But he would do something to silence the Duke’s ambitions.

“You have propositioned the marriage to the king of France’s daughter and he said no. What more can you do?”

“I can execute him. Attaint him and force the Duchess to give us her children.”

She shook her head. “Do not do that. The Duchess is my friend, I promised I would take good care of her daughter. It would break her heart if she found we were plotting to take her children.”

“So you agree I should execute her husband?”

“I think …” She said moving closer to his naked body, tracing a long line down his hairless chest. “…that you need to do whatever you need to do. You are the king.” She said gazing deep into his blue orbs, sea-green met icy blue and he cupped her face and kissed her.

“You are a devilish fiend. I would hate if we were at opposite sides.” He teased descending his lips to her neck. “Would you show me mercy if I dropped to my knees? Would you show me the same clemency you show to your lady friends?”

It took her a while to answer, taking delight in Henry’s kisses, his soft lips tracing from her neck to her belly where new life lay.

“I would. A gentler heart make swifter conquest.” She replied pushing her head back against the pillow, moaning loudly as he reached her sheath which was wet and moist and widened, ready for his entry.

He smiled, recognizing the words were his own from long ago when he had marched on the heart of Paris bearing a thirst for vengeance and ambition. “You’ve brushed up on your history. I am impressed.” He entered her. “Oh yes … yes… yes!  God … Saint George!”  She screamed, invoking all the saints of English history. “Yes!” She wanted more. He withdrew and came up, sliding his hands down her shoulders to her breasts to her waist and thrust his iron lance against her.

-o- When he was with her, he felt whole. She felt complete. There was something about them, that defined them and it wasn’t sex. It was their vitality. The king never felt so young, so happy like when he was with her. Alice brought the best of their iron king and he brought out the best in her. Harry pushed his pillow against his head, hoping it would drown their screams but it seemed to augment them.

She screamed until there was no more voice in her. Harry turned to the right side of the bed, hugging his covers closer to his body and pressing his ear hard against his pillow. He directed his gaze at the open window. He asked to sleep with the drapes open. He didn’t mind the cold winds, he felt better against such austere environments than the false warmth his candles.

His father woke the next afternoon, late for another council meeting. The third one in a row. He was so overburdened by exhaustion that he could barely walk. They had to carry him over to the council room.

Humphrey, John and the Beaufort brothers found this very funny but Harry found nothing funny about it. He saw this as a shameful display of kingly power. Where was the man who had ridden out with his armies in proud victory against the flower of French chivalry? Who was the men who slaughtered all those innocent men and put tears in their widows’ eyes? Where was he? Had Alice unmanned him too?

He had grown with a mental picture of his father riding his white ferociously into battle, swinging his sword, breaking skulls and hacking limbs. Where was this man now?

Henry addressed the council with a placid tone, laughing at his own condition and making crude jokes. Everyone laughed except Harry. His silence went unnoticed by everyone except his father who eyed him crossly.

The Earl of Salisbury chose the moment afterwards when silence followed, to address the matter of Normandy and Calais. “Our supplies are running low. And our soldiers are reclaiming payment. We have exhausted nearly the royal treasuries in that region. If we continue repelling French attacks we will force ourselves into penury.”

“The Earl is right father. Some things are better than victory. A victory earned is not the same as one forced to. The French besides have reason to be angry at us. We have executed almost every captive while they demand ransom for ours. It makes us look bad in the world’s eyes.”

Henry pierced his son’s eyes, finding new strength he rose from his seat and walked to his son. Harry did not look up at him. “Have you ever been in battle my lord Prince?”

“No.”

“Have you seen a man’s skull crushed against the axe? No? Have you seen a man expel his bowels after an arrow pierces his guts and scream for our Lord’s mercy?”

Again silence.

“Have you ever been to battle and met the widows made so by your sword afterwards? Have you gotten to your knees explaining them why you sent so many of their sons, husbands, fathers to their deaths?”

“No?” He said with mockery placing his hands on his son’s shoulders, leaning forward to whisper in his ear. “Tell me my dear flesh of mine what have you really heard of war?”

“I-I’ve read books-“

“You’ve read books. And what do those books say? Do they sing songs of the war of all those nameless men who remained buried in unmarked graves, how they shit themselves after they begged for mercy, how they were hung after they refused to fight, how they screamed for their mommies after the French cut them to pieces, how they cried for their king, their mighty savior to save them but he never came because he was too far away from them?”

More silence.

Henry smirked, withdrawing his hands from his shoulders he shook his head in disgust and walked back to his seat. “My lord Earl, tell your brother in law I will send soldiers from abroad. He can take them or leave them and if he feels he is not yet up to the task my wife and I will be more than happy to receive him in London with open arms. The Duke has been far away for too long and the battlefield is no place to raise children. If he won’t come tell him to send his children. I will tell my wife to set up a nursery for them.”

The Earl opened his mouth –ready to tell the king the idiocy of this decision- but closed it. The king’s gaze was hard and his expression cold, colder than ever before. The Earl nodded and the King smiled, ending the meeting and returned to his wife who was at the said nursery, making sure everything was ready.

* * *

 

John returned to France to relieve the Duke of York. The post of Lord Lieutenant was still his (in theory) but John had all the power now. His wife Anne was heavily pregnant. With her, she brought her close friend Jacquetta, the daughter of the Count of St. Pol who had caused such a scandal when she married a lowly knight in her husband’s service, Richard Woodville. Jacquetta had been forgotten thanks to her mistress intercession and her father’s influence who wanted nothing more than to be in the English good graces at the time. Now that France was back in French hands, the Count cared less about how his daughter fared. Throughout it all, Anne remained with her, looking after her younger friend and overseeing her children’s education which now numbered five.

John envied his former squire (now his knight). He had two sons, three beautiful daughters and one more on the way. Meanwhile his wife had given birth to one daughter. One healthy daughter –he thought solemnly. He would not trade his life with Anne, but he often found himself thinking what would life be if he married someone else? If he had only waited and married someone younger?

Anne tried to please him. She was the only thing that remained of their old alliance with Burgundy. Philip had started to lean more towards France as of late. Thanks to that no good relation of theirs, the Duke of Somerset. Their cousin John Beaufort was an idiot and a want-to-be upstart just like all Beauforts. But unlike other Beauforst he didn’t possess their military intelligence or their great wits.

Damn him. If there was a hell, he hoped the Duke would go there after he died. It was his daughter’s birth that brought him back from his demented state. She was all she had now and a meager pension.   
One of these days John would see to it that all his brood pay for all the troubles they cost them. Until then, he would center his attention on keeping the French out of their Norman borders.

* * *

 

Cecily was happy to be back in England but she missed the comfort of Rouen. It was weird to say it but Rouen offered her the status and importance she could never have in England. There she and her husband were someone important; here they were just another noble family.

The queen welcomes Cecily back into the royal fold and presented her with her daughter. The four year old was big, very big. She was as tall as a ten year old and that was only putting it mildly. Her eyes held the wisdom of a seasoned warrior. That was to be expected –Cecily thought. –Her father was after all the greatest military leader in England. She opened her arms and Anne came running. She didn’t care about protocol at that moment, she wanted to see her daughter and kiss her. She scanned her, turning her head this way and that way to make sure there were no bruises. The queen was a good woman but you never know.

When she saw she was alright, she took her hand and guided her to her new chambers. Anne had many stories to tell. She and the Duke of Lancaster had grown close, and not friends-close as she had boasted in her letters, but close-close, the way of brothers and sisters. _One step at a time_. Cecily thought. One day she and the future king’s brother would be closer and if fate was good, they would marry and they, the Yorks, would reap off the benefits of such a union.

She had yet to see the queen’s second child but if what her daughter told her was true, then she was very lucky to have her as a daughter in law.

Richard complained it was too little. They were the king’s cousins and next in line to the throne after the royal family. They deserved better. Cecily sighed and rolled her eyes. “Let it go Richard.” She said. “The king has given us Princess Madeline for Edward, let’s be content with what we have. We are still the first family in the land.”

“We are not. As long as the king has that large brood of his we are not. Neither of you are safe. You know that.”

“I do but there’s nothing we can do at the moment. Cade has been defeated and what’s left of his army have met the same end. It’s best to set into our new lives. I know this is not what you were hoping for but think of it. Father to the future Prince, the highest lady in England and your grandchildren could one day wear the crown of England.” She posed but Richard snickered.

“Pah! With the way this king thinks we’ll be lucky if we have what we want.”

“We won’t have to wait long. His son is an imbecile and like Isaac’s second wife tricked him when she dressed her favorite son as his favorite we can do the same. He loves Alice and thinks very little of his first son. Imagine if there was someone to push him over the cliff before he realizes it’s his eldest who is destined to be King? We would be the first ruling family in the land Richard? Our daughter would be queen and with us behind her we would rule through her and her husband.”

“What about our sons?”

“Edmund is a healthy youth unlike his older brother. If anything happens to Edward, the dukedom and all your lands and patrimony fall to him. He would be all but king in name.”

Richard chuckled, liking what his wife was saying.

“If Harry falls then John becomes king and our daughter becomes queen and we become the rulers of England through her, is that what you are saying?”

“Exactly.”

“But should they have no children or only daughters then-“

“Edmund becomes King and through his wife we unite the Houses of Lancaster and York with York at its head.”

“Brilliant. My wife is a genius!” He roared, taking his wife’s arms and pulling her into a strong embrace. He showered her with kisses and gave her one last powerful one in the mouth, leaving her nearly out of breath.

Who knew?! His wife Cecily, the military tactician! “You should be called Captain Cecily!” He said. She put all of his military commanders to shame.

Cecily was elated to hear such praise but she settled into the humble role she had fashioned herself  once more and as the queen, she gave one small smile and told her she only stated what he already knew.

“No, no. You are a genius, I don’t care what you say. You have saved me from what would have been an inevitable doom. If I had followed with my plan you and I would have found ourselves in a war neither of us could have hoped to come out alive. Now you have given me a greater idea.” He said still holding her arms. “I will accept the king’s offer. He can have our son and daughter, we will make sure their spouses rise to the top, above their older brother’s.”

“It is a dangerous gamble. The king still bears some love for his late wife.”

“His late wife was a whore. Questions can arise regarding the future king’s legitimacy and if this queen is smart as I suspect she is, she will stop at nothing to avoid her little sister from sharing power.”

“You are diabolical my lord.” Cecily said with a devilish smile.

“No more than you my dear lady wife.” He said giving her another searing kiss and taking her to bed.

* * *

 

Marguerite had reached the age of consent and she was still without a good offer of marriage. What was taking Harry so long to convince his father to wed her? And her sister! She had written to her and the bastard had done nothing to help her! It was not fair. She was Marguerite of Anjou, her job was simple. Promote her father’s interests. But how could she do this when her sister was half way around the globe sleeping with the king of England, committed to helping only herself and not her family?

She was a bad queen. She was just like her mother, only interested in helping herself. And now she heard she was pregnant again. How long before she had a litter full of boys and they displaced her dear Harry?

Oh Harry. How she feared for his life. He was the only other male she knew besides her father and brothers. She felt like she knew him. They had been writing to each other for eight years since she was six. Now she was four and ten, it was high time they got married!

Her sister Yolanda told her to come down. She rolled her eyes when she saw Marguerite fret again and went to her and placed her hands on her shoulders, sitting her down on her cushioned chair where she had been a moment ago writing to her beloved prince. “I am sure he has a good reason not to write to you.”

“It’s not his letters that worry me Yolanda. It’s that he hasn’t convinced his father yet. I should be married now.” She went on to say. “Father said I should be married by now, that was two years ago. Now I am fourteen, soon I will be fifteen and an old maid. Why is it taking so long?”

“I am sure it must be the war with France.”

“But that has gone on for years and the French just signed a treaty of perpetual peace with the English and that was last year! He has no excuse Yolanda.”

Yolanda sighed. Her sister could be so difficult. “Look Marguerite, the king still has many things on his plate. You heard father the other day complain over the king of England’s soldiers stepping on his borders. England and France might not be at war but tensions are high in every camp. One mistake and we can all find ourselves at war again. The king doesn’t want that to happen but he can’t control his mercenaries and he knows it. Our father knows it and that is why he is in such a hurry to marry you to his eldest son so he can bring peace to both our kingdoms.”

“So, what is taking him so long?”

“Things are not that simple Marguerite. I already told you the king has many things on his plate. An alliance with Anjou would bring him a potential ally but not a good one, militarily speaking. He needs a stronger ally. And there are rumors that …”

“That what?”

“That he’s considering Castile and Portugal.”

“What?! He wants to marry his son, my Harry to some Spanish or Portuguese pig? Ugh. How dare he?” She jumped from her chair and paced the room back and forth “I am a daughter of the House of Anjou, our House is one of the noblest and ancient Houses in Christendom. How dare he reject me over some Spanish pig?”

“Marguerite he needs a richer bride-“

“Our father is rich.”

“Not as rich as the kings of Castile and Portugal.”

Marguerite opened her mouth to retort angrily but her sister beat her to it. “I know how hard this is for you to admit but our father is the ruler of a poor kingdom. He hoped to save it when he married our sister to the king but nothing can save Anjou. He knows it and his ministers know it, but they keep deluding themselves.”

“So you’re saying I should give up?” She demanded hotly.

“No. Keep writing to your betrothed, convince him that marrying you is the best option for England. Once you are there you must forget about Anjou and concentrate on England.”

“How can you ask me that?”

“You will fare better if you do. Remember our first lessons. England is not kind to their foreign queens. If you interfere too much they will perceive you as a threat, you will alienate all the nobles and most importantly you will gain powerful enemies that will work endlessly until they bring you and your family down.”

Marguerite snorted but Yolanda remained unmoved.  
“Laugh if you want. But if you interfere too much you will alienate everyone and soon you will have all the most powerful nobles as your enemies.”

“Don’t exaggerate.”

“I am not exaggerate sister, I am stating a fact.” She said and with a tone of finality informed her that the king of England was going to send his ambassadors next month to inspect her, to see if she was still suitable for his son, then turned on her heel and left, leaving Marguerite thinking of what she said.

Her words stayed with her during the entire night. She dreamed of England, expecting the richest plates and pageants being received by the most beautiful people in Europe. She believed that England was her destiny, she had been taught since birth that one day she would become a great queen, even her bastard sister believed it. Now the tables were turned, her sister was queen while she was still an impoverished princess, daughter to an impoverished princess. Might as well be branded bastard –she thought closing her eyes again. –She struggled to sleep, thinking of her sister and the large brood that would greet her when she arrived to England. She would already have three sons while she would still be a child. And then she thought of what her sister said, of the many nobles she would be facing that they would seek to dethrone her. _Never!_ She would rather die than let them get away with it. Her father had fought for so long for this marriage, she was determined not to let him down. She would play her part and she would play it good.

She would not forget Anjou like her sister did.


	5. Chapter 5

_I see your face before my eyes I am falling into darkness_

_Why must I fly to stay alive? Heroes fallen_

_Wake me, can you hear me calling?_

_Out of darkness they come calling_

_Here I am,_

_I am lost in your land and I hope you will be:_

_Creeping in my soul_

_Shadows fall, let me out hear my call_

_and I will always be_

_Creeping in my soul_

_I fade away into the night, my eyes are closing_  
There goes a fleeting from the light  
My nightmares can begin  
Wake me, can you hear me calling?  
Out of darkness they come crawling

_Here I am,_

_I am lost in your land, and I hope you will be_

_Creeping in my soul_

_Shadows fall, let me out, hear my call_

_and I will always be_

_Creeping in my soul_

**-Christine Lorentzen, Creeping In My Soul**

**King Charles:**  Right is what behold your face. Most worthy brother England. We are now glad to behold your eyes. Your eyes  that behold the order of murdering vassals … venom of such … that these days shall change all grief and quarrels into love.

**King Henry:**  I cry Amen to that.

**–BBC Hollow Crown**

**-o-**

_“Since then my office so hath prevail, so royal eye to eye you have agreed and let it not disgrace me if I have not demanded why these two of noble births in this best noble garden in this earth that is noble France, shall not wed? I entreat that I may know why this should not be agreed?”_ Henry remembered the Duke of Burgundy had agreed with Henry’s demands but he had demanded of the King of France and his son (then just the) Dauphin why they should have an objection to the match. Henry wished they now had voiced such offense.

Westmorland and Exeter had left him alone with Kate. She was just Katherine, a noble princess, fair and sweet. Noble Katherine –he had called her.

“ _Leave our cousin Katherine here with us. She is my capital demand”_ He had demanded, saying the royal ‘my’, leaving nothing unclear to the stubborn and mad King of France who had terrified his daughter into submission. He had eyed Katherine, it took one look, only one to convince him she was the one. He set his crown upon her noble seat where she’d sat, she had paced the room back and forth, unsure what to respond to his inquiries of her love for him. _“Would you love to set terms to a soldier’s terms and accept a king’s love?”_ She had furrowed her brow and asked her lady what he had meant. _“What said she that the tongues of men be full of deceit?”_

_“Qui_ ” Her lady had said.

_“The princess is a better Englishwoman.”_ He’d said to set aside her fears and knelt before her, setting aside his pride and power for her once more. He tried speaking in French to her but it came down terribly and she laughed at him and he laughed back. He had loved her, loved her like he had loved no one else. He had written endlessly to her, learned to dance her dances just for her. And she had stabbed in the back, betrayed him with his noble retainer and made him the laughing stock of England and France.

_“Is it possible that I should love the enemy of France?”_

“ _No but in loving me you should love the friend of France because I love France so well that I should not part with a village of it. And when France is mine and I am yours then you are mine.”_

_“I cannot tell what is that.”_ She said in further confusion, trying to make out what was it that he was saying. He could tell that she was having trouble understanding yet he assumed he did and

_“By my knowledge in true French I love thee Kate and by it I can tell you love me not but you will because you have bewitched me Kate and you have made no man love you as much as I love you.”_

Another lie.

_“You make my blood boil Kate, although you cannot notice it for my pale appearance because my father was so worried with civil war that he begotten me amidst plots and intrigue that I’ve become Iron,” he turned to his lady, bearing a smudged grin on his face. “What say you now to my love my fair Kate?”_

She walked across the room, her pace slower, she turned her head to him, confusion stricken from her face as she locked her blue eyes with his –the same eyes his son had inherited from her, the same eyes he had to contest with every day that he defied him, wishing that he died, just as he had wished his father to die to take his throne- and she blushed.

“ _Take me by the hand and say Henry of England you are mine. England is thine, Ireland is thine, and France is thine and Henry Plantagenet is thine. Come …”_ He prompted holding out his hand, still kneeling.

_“Will it please him if I say yes?”_

_“It shall Kate.”_

_“Then it shall so content me.”_ Then they kissed, breaking years of maidenly French tradition. Katherine’s lips were like poison, sweet poison.

In that moment her father had come and her brother

_“God, the best maker of all marriages. Combine your realms in one, as man and wife you are one, your spousal shall eliminate all jealousy and discord and French and Englishmen shall receive each other.”_ Katherine and Henry joined hands and everyone cried victory in their names. He had relished seeing the Dauphin’s face filled with envy and hatred. France was now his, it would always be his until the end of times.

He had believed the Duke of Burgundy’s words. Everyone had believed them. He had been so hurried to believe himself in love that he had forgotten there was more to love than just a kiss

**_Fortune made his sword by which grandeurs he achieved. He left his son Imperial lord. Henry VI._** He reflected on the sword he had fashioned for his son on the day he had gone for his last battle. The day he had almost died by taking a shit near the battlefield. He knew he would die, he was so sure of it but God had saved him. He did not want Henry to die. He had yet a special mission to him, to conquer and keep conquering until the world was his.

He smiled at the memories. They were all gone now. His uncles, the Duke of York, the present Duke of York’s uncle and so many. He and his brothers were the only ones left. The soldiers he had gone to battle had died either of sickness or in the battlefield. There was no one left he could talk to relive the memories of his good old days. He looked at his young wife, she was sleeping soundly in his arms, unaware of what troubled him. He thanked the Lord every day for her. She had brought back the vitality into his life, but he found himself wondering at times if Katherine had not died, if she had repented … Could they have made it work?

Alice stirred. He put his mind at rest and settled back into his position. Pulling her closer he placed a soft kiss on her ear, calming her, and went back to sleep.

* * *

 

Harry opened the jeweled box. He had paid a fortune for this. If his father found out he would tan his hide. The man was old but he could still beat him if he wanted. The Abbot said it had belonged to his mother. _‘She would want you to have it’_ He said. Inside were letters written to her lover Owen, her brother Charles and of course his father.

He was surprised to find how much she had pleaded with his father. She had begged for his mercy, in her last moments all she could think of was her sons. She wrote that should she die in childbirth that she wanted his father to let him know that she loved him and that she never intended to abandon him and that she wanted him to take care of his sibling.

Harry wiped the tears from his eyes and put the letters back in the box. He then took a golden locket and eyed it with interest. He had not recalled seeing something like this mentioned in the list of items collected shortly after his mother’s death. Then again, he hadn’t recalled much. His father had kept him obscure of the facts surrounding her death. He hadn’t found out how or why she died until a year after, after which he had begun to hate his father for the humiliation he had put his mother through.  
He opened it. His eyes widened.  
Inside was a picture of him as a baby carried by his mother but instead of his father with his arm around her, was Owen Tudor. The portrait was modified so that there was no trace of his father left behind, Owen’s image had been painted over and her mother’s image was also modified so that her stomach was fuller like she was about to give birth.

“Mother.”

She looked so happy, so full of life, she had a glow he had never seen before any other person. She was the perfect image of happiness. And then there was him in her arms, she looked down at him lovingly. She had cared. In spite of all the lies his father had told him, she had cared. His mother thought of him in her last moments.

He sniffed, wiped the tears from his eyes and hid the locket under his dark doublet. His clothes were one of the many things his father disapproved. They made him look too austere, another proof he was unsuited for kingly life. But what did his father knew about kingly life? He thought of himself as some great messiah but all he’d brought his country was debt and more bloodshed. And the people loved him for it. Why?

Harry rose, determined he went to write another letter, this time to Marguerite’s father. If his father wasn’t going to let him marry, then he would take matters into his own hands. It was time he proved to his father and the rest of parliament that he was not another fool, he was the grandson of Henry IV, great-grandson of John of Gaunt but most importantly he was their future lord and king and someday they would have to bow to him just as they did to his father.

My father is not going to last long. –He thought. –His father’s age was becoming more apparent. He was nearing his sixty first birthday and Alice’s pregnancy was likely to be her last. If he was correct it would place Harry at the top and his future wife also at the top as his uncontested queen. With his uncles having only girls as their heirs, Harry would be the one the people would be looking for male heirs. Nobody would think twice about his half-siblings, they were sons and daughters of a bastard while he was the son of an anointed king and a doubly anointed queen.

* * *

 

Marguerite was being smuggled across the channel. As soon as she reached Calais she would meet with the future king and they would marry in a secret ceremony. His uncle’s squire and several others of his father’s retainers whom he’d bribed had agreed to help him and take his place while he was in Eltham Palace. His father and Alice weren’t due to visit in another week. Enough time for him to wed and bed young Marguerite.

When she reached the castle she was introduced to lady Jaquetta, Baroness Rivers. Her husband had been turned Baron by the king last summer after he proved himself with his master, his uncle, the Duke of Bedford in Normandy, expelling French troops from their borders. It was a great improvement from being a squire’s wife. Jacquetta Rivers felt elated. She was receiving the future queen. At first glance the girl looked so simple, dim witted but when she met her she saw there was more to her than met the eye.

It had been a while since Harry had seen another human soul that was not warring or deceptive like his father. The few women his father had introduced him to were all relatives, none were particularly beautiful. Pleasing yes but they lacked something special.

"Your Grace." Marguerite said giving the usual curtsy. Harry took off his jeweled cap and kissed her hand. "Welcome to England, my lady." He said.

They were married in the chapel royal, his father had constructed it for Alice after she gave birth to his sister, Blanche Marie. He wanted his next offspring to be baptized in this church. He wanted to make it known how special his children were to the people of England by presenting them to his conquered territories.

Henry smirked. He had gotten ahead of his plans. Presenting Marguerite as his future queen he would ensure his future as England's future king -a unified England -he hoped. He was not blind. He knew the people loved victories but they didn't love the toll they took on the economy. If he wanted to become their beloved monarch he had to prove himself in the political battlefield first. Unlike his father, he understood there were some things best put to rest, one of these things was France. Too much blood had been spilled for the ambitions of one man. It was a big country and they had lost half of it, the half they had they could not maintained. It was better it was left alone.

Marguerite was dressed in the finest clothes. Golden long sleeves that fell to the bottom of her dress and her skirts were just as side with pearls embroidered and the three lions of England and her own arms, the arms of Anjou, on the front of her dress. She wore a simple headdress, a small golden tiara with a pearl falling in the middle. Her hair was loose, a sign of her chastity just as the king's chosen color, white.

She looked into his eyes. She expected to find a cold and hard-faced man but she was relieved to see he was not. She said her vows and he followed adding that he would honor her from this day to her last. The way he said them, made it seem like he was speaking with hindsight. Almost as if he knew their union was blessed by God.

Perhaps it is. They said the king's firstborn was among the most pious men in England and that he was never wrong in his predictions and he had already funded many universities. There was never, her sister the queen wrote in her letters, a better scholar made. 

Marguerite was lucky to have been blessed with such a man. Together they would work to make a better England than their forefathers could have ever dreamed of. They would be like Tristan and Isolde, Arthur and Guinevere, Henry II and Eleanor of Aquitaine. They would be unstoppable. 

* * *

 

Alice sensed something bad had happened. She voiced her concerns to Henry but he told her it was just her pregnancy. She shook her head. Something was going on, she could feel it.

Henry calmed her down and promised her he would send word to his son Harry in the morrow, telling him they were coming earlier than expected.

"Thank you." She said and rested her head in his shoulder. She could still not believe that she had gotten pregnant. Her mother had been so young when she had gotten pregnant with her brother and he did not live long. She was her last pregnancy and she was only twenty four. Women in her family were not very fertile unless they married younger. Most of them stopped giving birth after they reached the age of twenty six. Alice was twenty eight and she worried about her health day and night. This pregnancy was not going as well as the others and Henry knew it, everyone knew it, but they did their best to reassure her by bringing her entertainment from abroad, minstrels, jugglers, entertainers, anything to keep her mind off her worries.

Henry hugged her tightly. His hands were colder and he could feel her shivering under his touch. He changed the subject, "How are the Duke's children? I haven't seen them since last year."

"They are doing fine. The Duchess visits them constantly, especially Anne, she loves that child more than everything and our sons grows closer to her every day."

"You were very smart proposing that match."

"That was not my idea, that was all yours, I take no credit for it." She said closing her eyes, preparing for a good sleep.

"Do you always have to be so humble?" Henry asked amused, removing the strands of hair that was covering half of her face and placing a small kiss on her right cheek.

"I am what my husband wants me to be and I prefer humble and loyal over righteous and overbearing like so many of your noblewomen."

"You are friends with many of them love." He reminded her laughing but agreeing at her assertion. He also believed there was more wisdom in a woman's silence than in a woman's voice. It reminded him of his mother whose greatest virtue was her silence. Alice was like her in many ways.

"Because I have to. If I wasn't queen of England I wouldn't be friend with any of them. All they ever do is cheat, cheat, gossip, gossip, talk, talk and endless talk. It is frustrating. What makes a true lady is her virtue of knowing when to be silent and when to speak up in defense of her lord and family but all these women ever do is speak against their husbands and mock them behind their backs. Did you know the Duchess of York's sister, the Duchess of Buckingham does nothing but speak endlessly about what a lousy man Buckingham is in bed?"

Henry laughed. "No, really? What does he say?" He asked, slightly interested. Buckingham, who could have guessed.

"I am not telling you. It's disgusting and an insult to good behavior. Someone should do something."

"Someone should." Henry agreed but he said. "But even a king can't stop his subjects from speaking their minds now and then. If you want someone to punish them you can stop looking, the good Lord will strike them for their foul mouths just as he's stricken all my enemies."

"I am going to pray more then so He does it soon. It is torture hearing those women."

"Oh my sweet, the woes of womanhood. Sometimes I think I am lucky to be born a man. You women are deadliest creatures to speak behind one man's back. I can only wonder what more do you plot behind our backs."

"You do not have to worry about me my lord, I would never betray my good husband but as for the rest of my companions, I would not be so sure."

* * *

 

John asked his wife to give him the papers on his desk. She was having constant back pain. Her last pregnancy had resulted in a miscarriage. Like his brother he had been of the mind that he would have no more children. Their offspring Annie was all they had so he started planning for her future, making his will and leaving in his will all his lands and titles to her. If the daughter of Edmund Langley was suo jure in her own right then so could his daughter. She didn't pose a threat besides to Henry's children, most of them were boys and with marriages already planned out for them.

He read through his letters trying to look for everything he had missed, just in case the meeting did not go as planned.

"Is this the one you were looking for?" Anne asked handing him a letter from his brother he received two months ago. He nodded and thanked her. She noticed the sweat on his forehead. "It will go as planned." She reassured him. "You have planned this betrothal for years now all your hard work will finally pay off."

"Our hard work."

Anne smiled. "I couldn't have done this alone." He said. 

"I know but it's best your brother thinks it was all you, you now how domineering he gets, he likes to think his sex is the best and our dear sister is just the same  wasting no time to show how subservient she is to him."

"You still don't trust her."

"I trust her alright, I just don't trust whatever game she is playing."

"You are too hard on her, you and your friend Jacquetta."

"Do not exaggerate. Jacquetta is my lady not my friend and she is right about her. The queen has no name except the one her father, the king of Anjou gave her, if it wasn't for him she would be another bastard. She knows this and takes advantage of the best weapon she has, her humility."

"Is that such a bad thing? You always said women ought to know better."

"Yes, women who meddled in their husbands' affairs not women who wanted to use virtue as an excuse to keep doing so." He chuckled. "You might laugh at me, but the queen is a wicked little witch just like the rest."

He shook his head at his wife, still chuckling. He didn't want to say anything to make her more angry but he saw nothing wrong in the queen. She was the perfect image of virtue, an example for all.

"What do you think of my nephew Harry? Do you think he will like the Infanta?"

"He must. The Infatan is quite a catch. She is from the House of Aviz, the oldest ruling House in Europe, he would be a fool not to take her." 

He hoped so. He had done so much to make this happen. It had taken him a long year of talks, bribes, and fighting with the council to get this betrothal approved. Henry had been in favor of the match but his son did everything he could when they were at meetings to voice his opposition and bring more people to his side, stating that Marguerite was vital to achieving a lasting peace with France.

Henry had rubbed his forehead. He said if Harry was not his son he would lock him in the tower, in the darkest cell until he lost his eye-sight. John sighed. Things between his brother and his nephew were getting worse every day. Harry wanted to be king, he believed his father was a war mongrel and he could do a better job, he never wasted an opportunity showing off his scholarship to his father, quoting from the psalms and saints on the virtues of youth against the arrogant of the old.

John hoped that with the marriage to Infanta Beatrice, Harry would get his mind of such ideas. Besides the boy was twenty five, it was high time he was married and fathered children of his own.


	6. Chapter 6

_"Lately I been, I been losing sleep_  
Dreaming about the things that we could be  
But baby I been, I been praying hard  
Said no more counting dollars  
We'll be counting stars  
Yeah, we'll be counting stars  
  
I see this life  
Like a swinging vine  
Swing my heart across the line  
On my faces flashing signs  
Seek it out and ye shall find  
The old, but I am not that old  
Young, but I am not that bold  
And I don't think the world is sold  
I am just doing what we are told  
I, feel something so right"But doing the wrong thing  
I feel something so wrong  
But doing the right thing  
I could lie, could lie, could lie  
Everything that kills me makes me feel alive

_Lately I been, I been losing sleep_  
Dreaming about the things that we could be  
Baby I been, I been praying hard  
Said no more counting dollars  
We'll be counting stars  
Lately I been, I been losing sleep  
Dreaming about the things that we could be  
But baby I been, I been praying hard  
Said no more counting dollars  
We'll be counting stars

_I feel the love_  
And I feel it burn  
Down this river every turn  
Hope is a four letter word  
Make that money, watch it burn.  
Old, but I'm not that old   
Young, but I'm not that bold  
And I don't think the world is sold  
I'm just doing what we're told  
I feel something so wrong  
But doing the right thing  
I could lie, could lie, could lie  
Everything that drowns me makes me wanna fly  
  
Lately I been losing sleep  
Dreaming about the things that we could be  
Baby I been, I been praying hard  
Said no more counting dollars  
We'll be counting stars  
Lately I been, I been losing sleep  
Dreaming about the things that we could be  
But baby I been, I been praying hard  
Said no more counting dollars  
We'll be counting stars  
  
Take that money and watch it burn  
Sink in the river the lessons I learned  
  


_Take that money and watch it burn_  
Sink in the river the lessons I learned  
  
Take that money and watch it burn  
Sink in the river the lessons I learned  
  
Take that money and watch it burn  
Sink in the river the lessons I learned  
  
Everything that kills me makes me feel alive

__Lately I been losing sleep__  
Dreaming about the things that we could be  
Baby I been, I been praying hard  
Said no more counting dollars  
We'll be counting stars  
Lately I been, I been losing sleep  
Dreaming about the things that we could be  
But baby I been, I been praying hard  
Said no more counting dollars  
We'll be counting stars"  


 

_-One Republic, Counting Stars_

_"A king has his reign and then he dies. It is inevitable."_

_-Prometheus_

"Sir John Stouton. Thank you for arriving at such short notice. I was very pleased to hear your elevation. Baron, it must be a long way from a simple knight." The Queen's mother, lady Amelie Lemaitre siad.

"Your ladyship honors me. I was expected to be greeted by the Queen."

"My daughter is on her confinement where she should be along accompanied by her ladies, she has more than enough company and troubles keeping up with their idle chatter." 

"Please sit. I called you here because I want somebody I can trust." Amelie said very serious.

Sir John's olive skin paled. She relaxed her shoulders and lay back, watching his reaction, patiently waiting for his reply. 

"Well?" She said breaking the silence, still smiling. "Will you help me get rid of my daughter's little problem?"

"Madame I am a loyalist and a royalist at heart but what you're asking me is too much. The king would be angry if-"

"The king has more than enough on his plate to worry about a little nuisance. You and I both know what will happen to England if we let that golden haired minx do whatever she likes." She said roughly. "You hare properties in France and your wife recently has had a son in your new chateau am I not correct?"

"Yes." He confessed but said in protest. "I can't condone the actions you are asking me to do. The king is the king and when he dies his son will take the throne and as his father and his father before him and his great-grandfather, Edward III, he will be a good king."

Amelie laughed coldly. "Come on lord Stourton. You don't believe that."

"It doesn't matter what I believe Madame. The king has faith in his son. He's pardoned his folly and his uncle, His Majesty's regent in France has given him his full support."

"They had no other choice." Amelie said. "When His Majesty dies who do you think will be in charge of his kingdom? Him?" She chortled. "Don't make me laugh. His uncles and that wife of his will fight for him like beasts until they tare him apart. Henry is a poor youth who is nothing like his father and has inherited all of his maternal relations flaws. My grandsons on the other hand are true Lancasters. If Harry should die without issue ..." A sardonic smile appeared on her lips. "...Then my grandson would take the throne and unlike the factions that have sprung up thanks to the Princess of Wales, there will be none where my daughter will be concerned."

"Madame you promise too much but can you deliver? Your daughter is yet young and she is not fully mature to take on the reins-"

He was interrupted by her laughter.

"You don't know my daughter Monsieur. She has been more influential than you think. Who do you think convinced His Majesty to humble himself for once in his wretched life when he confronted the Cade rebels? His brothers, that upstart Humphrey and prudish John and his haughty wife Anne? Certainly not! My daughter Monsieur has been behind your King's every step. She is just too humble" -and smart -she thought mentally, "to admit it."

Lord Stourton was surprised. But he still maintained his first position. "I will not. I am sorry Madame, I promise you as a gentleman I will not reveal your plot to the king or your daughter who would be very upset if she knew."

"You exaggerate Monsieur. My daughter is a sweet girl but she is no fool. Whatever you tell her she will know it was for the best."

Stourton nodded, unconvinced. He rose from his chair and bowed his head to the Queen's mother. "Madame." And with one final curtsy he left.

Amelie watched him leave. It was a shame she wasn't more loose with her morals like the rest of Rene's whores. Who was the last one? Annie, Allana, Dana? She couldn't keep up. Reene had more mistresses than any other monarch.   _One for each year._ -He loved to brag. She ordered more wine.

This was going to take her longer than she expected. The English for all their rapacious nature and vindictiveness were chivalrous. They lived and died by a strictly moral knightly code that told them that certain actions were not only immoral but sinful. They were more afraid for their mortal souls than anyone else in the planet.

Enough -She chided herself. One loss shouldn't deter you. There were plenty more noblemen to choose from.

* * *

Marguerite was terribly disappointed. It was a meager reception. She tried to stop Harry from launching himself at the king when he yelled at him, threatening to excommunicate him and his bride if he didn't agree to an annulment.

She whispered in his ear. Harry smiled and motioned to Marguerite's chaplain to take out their secret weapon. He rolled over the parchment and gave it to his father.

Henry read it aloud then stopped as he scrolled down to the bottom. He turned to his younger brothers Humphrey and John, the former was equally livid.

"I didn't agree to this!"

"You didn't." Harry agreed. "But the pope did, three months to be exact. And Marguerite's father agreed to pay her full dowry, twice as much as what was promised from the Portuguese Infanta."

"You wretched son of a whore! If you live it is only because you are my son! I never agreed for you to marry this woman! Either you turn her back or you are more than welcome to spend the rest of your days in the tower."

"Do it." Harry said boldly turning to Marguerite who smiled indulgently at him. She squeezed his hand. "And the whole people of England will turn against you and it won't just be another Orleans but you will lose Normandy and Aquitaine and what little else you have of France."

Henry slapped him. 

It was an all too familiar sight. Four decades ago their father had slapped him and accused him of treason; now they saw the same pattern repeat itself with Henry and his son.

Harry you fool. -Henry Beaufort, Bishop of Winchester said to himself. -This is what we get for having Katherine of Valois' son as our Prince of Wales. He didn't want to think what would become of England when Harry became King. With that wife of his, they were certain to have more troubles.

Harry's eyes flared, they glared at Henry but he seemed unperturbed by this. A long pause followed where no one spoke. At long last, the Prince's new bride stepped forward and curtsied deeply. In a soft voice she said to the king: "Your Majesty, please don't take it against your son. The fault is all mine. My father asked me if I wanted a grand marriage and I said yes. I didn't know I would marry Your Majesty's son until it was too late. Your son didn't have any intention to disobey you. He loves you and speaks highly of you. If you allow us to stay, we promise you we will do our best to make Your Majesty proud."

"You let your wife speak for you now?" Henry asked. "What? No answer." He shifted his glance to his brother. Both had remained silent, preferring to stay out of this row. He returned his glance to the couple. "I gave you my written pardon, I will do so again. But in exchange I will have your lesser title of Earl of Chester and give it to your brother John and you will hand over your larger properties in Normandy and Dover."

Harry opened his mouth to protest but feeling the gentle squeeze of Marguerite's hand, he closed it and nodded.

"You are both dismissed." 

Henry waited until they left then sat in his cushioned throne. Humphrey came forward, "That stupid boy of yours ruined everything we have worked for. Years fighting the bloody French and just like that." He snapped his fingers. 

"Calm down. We can still salvage this. Maine and Anjou have always been a vital concern, perhaps this marriage will fix things between both our nations."

"Pah!" Humphrey threw his hands in the air. He couldn't believe what his brother was suggesting. John was always the realist but he failed to see the realism in this situation. "Anjou is nothing. You had planned for him a wedding with the Portuguese Infanta, now that would have made the difference."

"And just what exactly do you want us to do then Hump? Hmm? You want her to return her to her father? Go ahead, you and Henry be my guest. We will have war on our hands."

"War is already here John. Philip will have a field day with this. He's been looking for a way out of this alliance for years now thanks to our nephew he will have it."

"Don't be too hasty." Henry said calmly, though behind his calm demeanor he was angry just like his brother. "Philip will do no such thing. He is bound by oath just as we all are. Perhaps John is right. Maine and Anjou as allies are not a bad thing and if her father dares to defy us, we will invade simple as that." Henry said and held his hand up to both Humphrey and John, shutting their mouths.

He returned to his chambers where Alice's mother was waiting. "My lady."

"Your Majesty." She greeted, bowing her head very low.

"How fares your daughter?"

"She does well. The physicians are confident she will deliver a healthy set of twins. I should know, I have been pregnant many times and I know by experience when a woman is expecting more than one, my lady mother said it was a godly gift, but my mother was always superstitious."

"I don't think there is any superstition to that. God gives different gifts to different people." Henry said, avoiding his mother in law's eyes. He loved Alice, but he couldn't stand her mother. It was only because Alice's pregnancy was not going too well that he allowed her to come to court.  
The woman was a notorious whore and although being faithful only to one, the fact she had jeopardized Alice's reputation by making her illegitimate, angered Henry.

Alice gave a devilish smile and sat down without waiting for royal permission. "Indeed. I just saw my daughter's sister. I was going to greet her but she seemed to be in a hurry."

"I will tell my son to send her to you later if you two wish to talk." About what? Henry couldn't possibly know. Marguerite hated Alice's mother with a passion. She was everything her mother was not. Commoner, descendant of merchants and only through her father, did she belong to the high nobility.

"Don't bother yourself with me Your Majesty, I will pay a visit to Her Highness later. I came here to deliver you a message from my daughter Alice. She says that she wants to know if you will visit her tonight. I know it is forbidden but she desperately wishes to see you." She chuckled. "My daughter is such a romantic, you must excuse her."

Henry gave no expression. "Tell her I will be there before nightfall and I will give her a gift, whatever she wants until she gives birth."

"My, my, you really spoil her too much. Her lord father is not going to be very pleased when he hears. Marguerite has always been his sweetheart. He always expected her to have the best."

She already does. -Henry thought angrily. It was funny how his daughter in law turned out to be more like this woman than her own mother. He often wandered if Alice was truly Amelie's daughter.  But there was no mistake. The resemblance was there, but only in her eyes. The rest she was like her father Rene. If Marguerite wasn't younger and had different hair, the two of them could've passed as twins. He wished they were so he could figure what to do with Marguerite? Having one daughter in law who was smarter than unpredictable was a scary thought.

"But as you wish, I will tell her you to continue to spoil her. She will be delighted as always. Hopefully she can start engaging in idle chatter, my daughter has never been one for gossip. She prefers to life of a nun over a lady. Shame. It is no wonder why she always rejected every suitor."

"On the contrary Madame, it is the life every woman should lead. Your daughter is a credit to her sex and if she wasn't living, i could wish she was made a saint because no other Queen has been more pious than her."

"How eloquent. I will tell her what you told me. So long son in law." Amelie said and winked then wheeled and left. She hid her laughter with her hand.

Henry was happy to be rid of that woman. He wished Alice wasn't so kind, that woman didn't deserve her love and respect. She constantly mocked them, but Alice always held her head up high, smiling sweetly and replying calmly to every snark comment.

Thinking of Alice made him rethink his strategy. She had brought him the alliance with Maine and Anjou. It was fragile and it would last only five years at best. But at the time he was a bachelor with one son whose mother was a notorious whore. If he died without a second heir, people would question his monarchy. But the marriage between him and Alice turned out to be a love match. He never whispered it in her ear or told her how much he loved her the way poets and rakes did, she just knew.

If something were to happen to her because of this news, he would never forgive him. He would hunt Harry down to the ends of the Earth and make an example of him. So what if he was his son? He would not leave his kingdom to an idiot. He would not ruin decades of hard work just for him.

'God' He dropped to his knees and prayed before his large silver crucifix. As with all things, Henry kept saintly images of the Blessed Mother and the Holy Christ everywhere. They were the only things that gave him strength in these arduous times. 'Send my wife my love, let her know that I have not abandoned her and do not let her be overwhelmed by my son and her sister's union.'

He went to his wife's chambers where she was waiting for him, dressed in her finest gowns, wearing a humble signet on her head instead of her crown. She gave him a smile and in the instant she did, it melted away all his fears.

Alice was happy to see her husband. "You are blushing. Men don't like that dear. Remember what I told you."

"Mother please." She blushed harder.

"Look at how he looks at you. You would think he is a teenager meeting his first love."

"He is not. Henry knows what he wants."

"Yes so does his son."

Alice rolled her eyes. She flashed a smile to Henry as he turned and left. He had stayed with her for two days, leaving matters of state to his brothers and uncle. She watched him play with their sons whom he ordered be brought from the nursery. She never saw him so happy as when he was with them.

"Mother don't start with that again. We've been through this."

"Look at him with your little girl. That girl is going to be so beautiful when she grows up, just like her grandfather."

"Yes and philandering just like him." Alice replied, not liking where this was going. 

Amelie smiled at her child. She was the only one of her children to survive. She ran her fingers through her flaming golden hair and kissed the top. "Your father is old and he is a man. Men love to sleep around, they are like dogs, it is in their nature."

"Henry is not like most men. He respects me and his son also respects his wife." She said, not knowing why she was defending her sister but it seemed the right thing to do. Foolish as she was, she was still her sister and if she wanted to get out of this mess so the people wouldn't start talking that this was some crazy Anjou plot, she had to act the loving sister to Marguerite.

"His son is young and it is the first time he's had a woman. Give him time and he will prove your father's precious wrong. Your husband is a man of letters, men of letters are always more interested in their books than women but you are right, your husband is faithful to you. A luxury not all of us have." _Not even I._

She chuckled. "If your daughter inherits the best of both families she will grow up to be beautiful as graceful. Have you spoken to the Duchess of York about betrothing her to Edmund yet?"

"I have and Henry and I also suggested a betrothal for her oldest son and heir, Edward of York with the King of France's son to bring peace between both our nations."

"That's very clever of you."

"It was not my idea."

"Yes it never is." Amelie said with a wry smile. "You have done a marvelous work as Henry's wife Alice, if you were not his bastard, your father would be very proud of you. But you must not forget that to these people you will always be Alice, the baseborn daughter of the King of Anjou and the daughter of a man who can barely keep his kingdom while your sister has the great nobility at her side." She said and kissed her head again then left.

Henry asked her if everything was all right. 

"Yes. I am just tired. The babies, they are taking a great toll on me."

"I will bring you the warmest cloths so you can sleep comfortably." Henry offered.

Alice shook her head. "There's no need. We can manage, they are as strong as their father." She said giving him a reassuring smile. Henry smiled back and kissed her.

But in the back of her head, her mother's words still ran. Your sister has the great nobility at her side. Alice did so too, the Duchess of York, the Neville family, among others. But deep down she knew they were nothing compared to the support Marguerite had. 

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

**Enter Anne & Sofia. Exit The King**

_"I walk this empty street._  
 _On the boulevard of broken dreams_  
 _Where the city sleeps and I am the only_  
 _that walks alone_  
 _My shadow is the only one that walks beside_  
 _My shallow heart is the only thing that's beating_  
 _Sometimes I wish that a bear will found me_  
 _Today I walk alone_  
 _The city of dead, the city of dead."_  
-Boulevard of broken dreams (Broadway Cast)

_Love is a dangerous weapon. It withers when you try it on, it wither when you cry, but like steel it becomes poisonous when you let it on the sun for too long. The fire of passion renders it useless. That is love for you, a poison, a sweet poison but a poison nonetheless. I would not taste it for all the world, I hate it, I hate it! –Love by Death’s Girl._

Alice walked down the corridor. The baby was born dead. One of them was a girl, but the boy they had waited for so long was born dead. His father blamed the Prince of Wales, his folly had caused this –he said. It was up to Alice to be the mediator between father and son again. Marguerite was too busy with her own confinement. She wanted to start early. It was a boy, she convinced of it. And just in case it wasn’t, she rode all the way to Canterbury on Kent, to make an expensive pilgrimage with all of her ladies walking barefoot to the Cathedral where they walked to the shrine of the old saint, Saint Thomas Beckett, begging his blessing to intercede on her behalf if the creature inside of it was a girl. As if Beckett’s magic could cast a spell on it and make it a boy.

Alice always scoffed at these superstitions but her grandmother, the great Marie Alienor was a great matron of religious painters and scholars and she always believed that with the grace of god everything was possible. As a child, Marie Alienor was her only friend. When her mother was not busy pleasuring her father or conspiring with other women to keep him away from his other favorites, her grandmother was there teaching her about the saints and the religion she held dear.

Alice kept her crucifix close to her heart. She had commission a new chain for it made with pearls and gemstones. At the bottom of the cross hung three pearls, the middle of it was a smoky pearl symbolizing both her proud lineage and her stained birth.

“Be a bastard.” She told herself, as she reached her husband’s chambers. “Make it your strength. It can never be used to hurt you.” And until today, it never had.

Henry’s stomach lurched when he saw his son enter his chamber boasting of his wife’s pregnancy and his wife Alice entered minutes after, her stomach flat. Was he getting old? He used to see Alice as a little child, but she had grown so much since her arrival. When she came she was just a girl, now she was a woman. Beautiful and sensual. Had he grown possessive of her? No. Jealous? Never. Alice was faithful to him. Unlike Katherine she knew no other man but Henry. She would never betray him.

But Henry was an old man, insecure, heir to a great dynasty that was fairly new and with very shaky grounds to stand. He had many sons –thank the Lord for that. But sons were no guarantee for a dynasty’s future. If his heirs weren’t wise, they would lose everything, from his meager holdings in France to his kingdom in England.

Henry worried constantly about Harry, he was his namesake, his son was supposed to take after him but he took after the skippy king instead. Was this what his father meant when he said that the same curse that visited the black prince for his atrocities in Crecy and Calais would come visit on him too by his son? He hoped not. He was a seasoned warrior, he had seen and done everything and he was not ashamed of it. It was his profession and he would be damned if he ever regretted it. But Harry … oh Harry … He was not a born leader or a seasoned warrior like his father. He didn’t know of melees or vanguards or rendezvous like Henry did. He had never known hunger. Born in a cradle of gold, he only knew what his scholar bishops told him. He was not a king like his father, and England would be damned if he ever ascended the throne.

“Alice close the door behind you.” He told his wife, calling her by her Christian name. She did as she was told and turned to Henry.

“Where are the servants?”

“I’ve dismissed them. What I will speak here does not leave this room. Harry why don’t you tell your lovely mother what you did?”

“Henry?”

“Tell her Harry or I will.”

Harry turned to his stepmother. “The King of Anjou, your father my lady, has agreed to invade Aquitaine on His Majesty’s behalf.”

“Henry! You agreed to this madness?”

“Not my father my lady, but your father’s overlord, the French King. He and your lord father have formed an unholy alliance against our kingdom. He claims that you knew.”

“What?” Alice brought her hand to her chest and looked at both men in utter shock. “Henry you can’t believe this madness. My father may be many things, but he is not a fool. If he’s done this-“

“Confess this my lady, is it not true you held in your keeping letters from your father that you let no one see or read to you except your lady mother?”

“Yes, but so what?” Alice said, placing both hands at her hips, doing an indignant pose. “Every other woman in my train has written to her lord fathers or brothers and not once have I heard anything against it.”

“The other ladies, my dear sweet lady mother.” Harry said with a grin. “Are not the natural born daughters of the King of Anjou. We ask you again. Did you or did you not write back to your lord father, my lord father too by my marriage, to inform him of my noble father’s plans?”

Alice looked to Henry for help but his face was a mask of fury, keeping his glance steady at both his son and wife. She didn’t know whom he felt mad at, she or him.

She did the only thing she could think of, she started pacing around the room then knelt before him, hugging his knees. “My lord I assure you, I know not what this is but you know me. I have always been true to you. I have never cheated on you, I have been true to you in body and spirit.” Especially in body, she thought and looked back at Harry whom she smiled, but before he could open his mouth to denounce her, she said to Henry, “I implore you don’t believe these lies. I only wrote to my father of my pregnancy, I told him how overjoyed we were at having more children. It is true that I wrote to him about Normandy. That is where our eldest son and daughter’s betrothed’s parents once were. He knows that territory well and I asked him if he would like to visit it when they marry the Duke of York’s younger children.” Henry opened his mouth but made no sound. Seeing this, Alice hugged him tighter. “Please my lord I implore you on your great mercy, don’t-”

She didn’t get to finish the phrase as the pain of her midsection which was still fresh from the heavy labour she faced when she gave birth to the twins, one of them which lay dead and buried at Westminster at his father’s insistence, fainted.

Henry grew alarmed. “Doctor! Doctor, bring the doctor!” He heard his son scream. He had Alice in his arms when they physicians came. Two, one his, and the other Alice’s. They sprinkled cold water on her forehead to wake her but she wouldn’t wake. He grew worried.

They placed her on her bed where her ladies also tried to wake her but they fared the same luck. After hours of trying she finally cast her eyes open. “Where am I?” She asked, seeing her familiar surroundings then remembered the fight she had with Henry and screamed for his name. Henry came from the shadows, he had been standing in a dark corner, praying for her safe return.

“My love.” She said with her head bowed. Henry begged her to look up at him but she shook her head. “I am not worthy.”

“Alice please stop this, I believe you now look at me.”

“Not, not until you hear me. I know they poisoned your mind against me. You said it yourself, you have many enemies, especially here in the palace.”

“Alice-“

“There are many who would be happy to serve the King of France over you. Didn’t you say the King of France is a sniveling little coward who uses money to buy himself allies instead of relying on the loyalty of his countrymen? Think Henry, the men and women here are on the payroll of that evil man. I remember him when he visited my father’s court, he always paid his servants well so they could never give away his secrets and he was a foul man. I remember him insulting my mother and me whenever I passed, I couldn’t say anything because I was a bastard and my father would not have believed me anyway. Who would? The King of France, just a Prince at the time was very handsome and your enemy and many Dauphinist preferred him for the false promises of his Orleans maid.” Her voice broke, she was crying now. “She delivered a note of prophecy to my mother. She said to her “repent, repent for Christ has returned on this Earth and He has returned through me.” She made my father leave my mother and leave me and not because of the Church’s decree but because some lunatic who thought herself the Second Coming.”

Her ladies went by her side to comfort her but Alice shook them. Henry kindly dismissed them and went by her side, embracing her. “I believe you.” He said and this time he said it with conviction. “I shall double the guard around this palace, no one will go in and out without my explicit permission so if the King of France thinks to separate us again, I will punish him through his agents.”

“Oh Henry but what about my father? You must not take it against him. My father is an old man, he believes everything, he has always been so kind on his family-“

“My love you’ve just said he abandoned you-“

“Only because of that accursed Orleans Maid, he would never have if it hadn’t been for her. Please I beg you, if you must go to war be gentle on my father’s lands. He would curse me if he knew I allowed this to happen.”

“Why?” Henry asked, his hatred for Alice’s father and the King of France rising once again. He had given his father in law many concessions. Now he had to spare his life too? But seeing his wife’s distress softened his resolve a bit.

“I promise I will not slay him if that is what you are afraid of. My soldiers will not ravage the countryside, but warn him if you must my dear Alice that he will not find any mercy from the rest of my generals if he continues to support Charles.”

“I promise. Just promise me it won’t be the tip of your sword that slays him. I could not bear it. I would curse myself if that were so.”

“I promise you it won’t.” He repeated and kissed her forehead. He stayed with her for the duration of the night. The following morrow he started the preparations for the defense of Le Mans. Thanks to his daughter in law, his wife’s sister, Marguerite of Anjou (he couldn’t believe he was actually acknowledging her help in all of this) who betrayed important information her father had given her to her husband, they learned that the French would attack from there. A garrison was sent under the command of his brothers, the Earl of Salisbury and his brother in law, the Duke of York and to start his son’s experience in these matters, he sent him along as well.

Henry stayed in the forefront, fighting another battle. His wife was still in distress. Courtiers whispered behind her back she had given important information to her father, while the commons who heard this defended her saying it was impossible. No woman so pious and devoted to His Majesty could have behaved in such a way. It was so unlike her. But the courtiers were fierce, and as the fighting elite in England their word was law and ultimately it would be their word which would survive into posterity.

Alice visited her daughter, Mary Eleanor, named after her grandmother. She found Marguerite holding her. Her belly wasn’t full but she could see the small bump, concealed by all her expensive clothes and jewelry.

“Sister.” Marguerite said, curtsying to her, while still holding her daughter. “I was just having my daily stroll when I heard her cry. She is very beautiful. I like the name Mary, it suits her after the Virgin.”

“I didn’t expect you to be back so soon.”

“Me neither but Kent was awful. It rained all day, we had to find shelter in the monastery nearby. The monks were so kind to us. We spent the next day in prayer.”

“They tell me you kissed the Archbishop’s Regal of France.”

“I did.”

“They never let anyone see that ring. How come they let you touch it?”

“They didn’t but the Archbishop was so impressed when he came that he ordered them to bring it to me. It is beautiful, you can see it too if you want to next time I go there.”

“Mayhap I will sister, mayhap I will.” Alice said with a sad smile.

* * *

 

The campaign was a disaster. The French shouted “For Saint Denis” and the English “For Saint George” but God had already taken sides. The French won and captured many valuable prisoners for which their families had to pay a handsome reward so they could be returned home safely.

Alice was in the chapel Henry had built especially for her, praying for their victory when she heard the news. People in the streets booed the generals, the boos grew louder when they saw the Prince of Wales’ trains. Riding behind him was the Earl of Suffolk, Harry had knighted him years back against his father’s orders and pulled strings so he could be made an Earl and because his father couldn’t be made a fool who didn’t control his son’s actions, he had to agree with all of them. William de la Pole, brave, tall and a lover for all worldly things couldn’t be farther from his master, the Prince of Wales. Harry valued him. For whatever reason, Alice did not know but he valued him all the same, and his wife, her sister, also valued his counsel. He was the only true friend they had in this cutthroat court and he was ever growing more powerful and ambitious. He had married the granddaughter of the famous poet Geoffrey Chaucer, Alice Chaucer and for that, he already considered himself an accomplished scholar.

Alice scoffed. Scholar! She wasn’t educated like the rest of the women but she knew enough of letters, and languages to make her well respected among the women of higher rank.

She tore her gaze from the window and went to the solar to await her husband. He would be furious and rightly so! This was the perfect time to comfort him and speak to him of soft words and false promises. The sort of things men his age loved to hear.

* * *

 

Henry threw the chessboard across the room. He had been playing his favorite game with his second older son, John, teaching him about the importance of the king. “Always protect the king. No matter what, the king must always be protected. The rest of the pieces only exist so the king can live.”

John was a fast learner like his father, and he listened to everything his father said, with a smile. Henry loved more than his other flesh and blood. He and his siblings were always a joy to see.

Just then the men had arrived to tell him of the terrible news. They lost the battle and the French had taken not only what little they held of Maine, but also Le Mans and many other towns surrounding it. The little they salvaged were small, abandoned, rotten forts that for obvious reasons the French did not bother to take.

He flew into the rage, scaring his younger son and daughter who sat on the floor playing with her dolls. John went to them and blocked them from view.

“Why wasn’t I told?!” He asked. He brought his hand to his mouth as he began to cough.

“We weren’t given any time Your Majesty. The French came at us by all sides and they were too many. They were all too well prepared and we-“

“You what? You let your balls freeze over because of fear? You have men, you have experience, why didn’t you do as we’ve done so many times before and led a surprise attack? Why?!”

He turned his back, bringing his wife’s handkerchief to his mouth. **Blood.** _Nobody must see this_. He hid it from view. “My lord York, you were in command of Normandy once before my brother took that post again, why didn’t you lead the surprise attack as you have done before?”

“My lord I tried but the French were too many and they surrounded us from all sides before we had a chance-“

“You mean you cowered.”

The Duke of York closed his mouth. _Ingrate. Foul scum. If it wasn’t for me he would be with his father rotting six feet underground with his body parts exhibited in all parts of London. I will see to it that he plays no part in my son and daughter’s life when they wed his children._ Henry’s steely gaze pierced the Duke of York’s and it made him cower even more, taking a step back.

“And you dear brother Bedford, you know everything what happened? Hmm? I doubt this was just a harmless surprise attack. Something must have tipped the French and the wretched Anjou forces. What was it?”

“Come on John, what was it? Cat got your tongue? Do not play that game with me now. You did it with father, it won’t work with me. I know you have been working hard, harder than any man here to keep the alliance with Burgundy, which brings me to my next question, where was your brother in law, Philip?”

“He was indisposed Your Majesty.”

Henry laughed, not a sane laugh. But mad, angry, the one of a psychopath before he kills his victims. “Indisposed? How long have you been married to Anne, John?”

“Many years.”

“Many. I see. And in all those years you have never suspected foul treason from that good fellow?”

“He was with use when we conquered France, I had no reason to suspect otherwise.”

“You had no reason.” He laughed madder now. His younger son John next to them, still shielding his siblings from view, giggled. He shifted his gaze to his other brother, Humphrey. “You have only one daughter to survive Humphrey, a daughter named after your _charming_ wife just like John; in all your years of heckling me to demand more of the Duke of Burgundy, you are not going to claim now that you didn’t know as well.” Humphrey greeted him with more silence. “My brothers. My two faithful brothers who have always kept my affairs in order.” He rose and placed his arms on their shoulders. He squeezed them tight. “You lost me France.”

“We still have the rest of Normandy and parts of Aquitaine-“

“Meager parts! I wanted all of France. I agreed to marry the King of France’s daughter to declare myself King in her name and crowned her Queen of France as well and what good did that do me when the Dauphinists plucked that accursed maiden from the town of Orleans and paraded her as their savior. I had her burned and they still continued to pillage my lands. I let that accursed King take the crown of France and half of my kingdom after he promised me he would leave the other half alone and what does he do? He and my father in law regroup and attack and you, the best generals in the realm had no idea he was coming and behave like cowering ninnies before those wretched scums?” He pushed them away and started coughing again, his handkerchief was half covered in blood and his son saw but one look from his father, made him close his lips.

Henry sat back in his chair. He waved his hand at them. “Leave.”

“Your Majesty-“

“I said leave. I will have no more of your excuses for the day. My lord of York.” The Duke turned.

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“My wife wants to see you. We have agreed to set a date for our children’s wedding.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty, you honor me-“

Henry waved his hand dismissively sending him away. Once the doors closed he leaned back and gave a long tired sigh.

“Foul wretches.” He said. He felt the tug of sleeve of his son John. The boy was too tall for his age. Not even his father had been this tall and he was only ten. “How would you punish them?” It was an unusual thing to ask a kid but his son was not just any kid but the King’s son and second in line to the throne.

His son made the motion of his finger going across his neck and made that gushing sound that always came afterwards.

“Very good.” Henry said laughing. “But you must not be so cruel, you must hear their testimonies first then,” he made the same gushing sound.

He laughed, his siblings came from their hiding spot and joined them.

“Daddy conquers all.” Sofia, named after the Greek word for knowledge said and at her young age she was already a scholar and pious like her mother. He knelt, ignoring his aching bones and lifted her in the air.

Sofia laughed loudly and yelled “Faster, faster!” Henry did just that swung her as fast as he could until she grew dizzy and he put her back on the ground where her brother Harold was raising his arms, begging him to take him as well.

Henry waved his hand, putting his other hand on his back. He was half bent, half up, his whole body ached but he could not say no to his son. “I will give you one next time I promise.” He said with a smile and turned away to cough. His handkerchief was completely bloody now. John saw it and went by his side at once but Henry pushed him away.

“I am fine, son. It is just a harmless cold.”

“It didn’t sound like it. Should I bring in the doctor?”

“No, John, I am fine please. Go play with your siblings. Have fun.”

John nodded, deciding not to fight. His father was a stubborn man and he would not like to see weak, especially in front of his beloved children. He did as he was told and went back to play with his younger siblings. His sister Sofia was holding a wooden crown on top of her doll. She declared herself the queen while Harold and John were left in the roles of the paupers, her subjects.

Henry heard them play and turned to look at them with a smile on his lips. Would that he could live a few more years to see them grown and married with children of their own. He covered his mouth and coughed. Blood spilled on his fingers _. Just five more years lord, five more years that is all I ask. Don’t forsake me now_.

* * *

 

God did not forsake him. The King lived five more years. His children were married in expensive ceremonies and the treasury was nearly spent on these glorious weddings. John Arthur, the Duke of Richmond and Earl of Chester was wed to the Duke of York’s eldest daughter, Alice. Next to them as their flower girl was his two and a half year old daughter, Marie Ellen. Marie was the product of an illicit union with a poor crofter’s daughter who had come into His Majesty’s service. Henry and Alice had been so angry when they learned, but they commended their son’s behavior for being there for his child’s mother when she gave birth and providing for the both of them. He confessed afterwards and did three pilgrimages to the most holy sites in England begging for forgiveness. The pope was so impressed that he sent a bull cleansing John of all his sins. Marie Belle remained in her mother’s custody until she reached the age of one and she was sent to her grandmother who placed her in her mother’s custody. Marie Belle thrived under her great-grandmother. She was strict but a loving and caring woman, who had much to teach her and Marie Belle grew more attached to her than anyone else. Anne of York soon forgave her husband’s folly. But being a pious and proud woman like her mother, she made him swear before the cross (on his knees) that he would never stray. John swore to her that he wouldn’t. Afterwards, it was a happy affair with white roses (a rose the Yorks had claimed for their own after the Mortimer’s emblem from where they descended) and red falling from the top of every townhouse as the commoners greeted the new royal couple. It was the happiest day of Anne’s life and she already felt herself a Princess. Her father and mother bowed to her the lowest. In due time she would be more than just a second’s son wife, she would be heiress and one day Queen of all England.

The next wedding followed the day after. It was greeted with less pomp and ceremony since it was the marriage of his royal daughter, but it was greeted with enthusiasm nonetheless by the couple’s parents. Sofia walked into the aisle dressed in gold and silver with pearls on her hair, a smoky pearl on the middle that she adopted from her mother’s manner of dress, to symbolize her proud and stained lineage. _Low but higher in honor –_ was her new motto and her groom wore it on the golden coin in his cap, in Latin.

There were great feast that lasted nearly a month. The streets were never tired of celebrating or speaking of the great event. Two of their Queen’s beloved children married. It would be two years before the Duke’s second son and his bride could consummate the marriage, but it didn’t matter. God who was the provider of things good, would make sure they grew old and had plenty of children and grandchildren.

* * *

 

Henry V knelt next to his wife. Every year they would celebrate the anniversary of their wedding and renew their vows. Henry loved Alice dearly, he gave her more gifts as he got older and bid her to forgive him for being so slow in the marriage bed. She always forgave him and told him she loved him even more because he was wiser with old age.

He would miss her. He thought turning to her. Her form was still as a statue. Listening attentively to the Archbishop’s sermon. Her knees were so stiff, but she never complained. _She never has._ Katherine always complained after every ceremony but would seldom tell him why. When Alice complained it was because he asked her to, and she never told a lie. She was an open book.

They went to feast afterwards and after it was all over they went to their bedchamber. “I am tired.” He confessed. “I could stand every ceremony without complaint but now my body betrays me. Ever since that time in France, I have never taken charge again. I remember the times when I rode with my brothers and the Duke of York’s uncle to France. I was so young, unafraid.” Has it been so long now? He didn’t realize he said it aloud.

“You are still young in spirit. No other King has accomplished what you have. I am not as schooled in politics as the rest, but I know that no other King would have commanded such respect and inspired so much fear on his enemies as you. You singlehandedly wiped out the flower of French chivalry in less than a day. People still sing of your courage, they remember you for your victories. That is something they will never forget.”

“I am not so sure. Thirty years ago I was sure I could keep France, now I don’t know if I can keep what little I had.”

“Little?” She asked coming to him, and walking her fingers down in hypnotic fashion across his chest. “You call Rouen, half of Aquitaine and Pas de Calais little? How little you value yourself my lord. Other Kings would sell their souls to the devil just to have what you have.”

“Other kings don’t have to deal with the problems I do.”

“Other kings are weak.” She said raising her head. She leaned forward and kissed him slowly, thrusting her tongue forward until she got a passionate response from him. “You took France from the French, reclaimed it as your own, you humiliated their king and dismissed his son as a false heir and married his sister and from that union you had a son who has a son of his own. You. It was all you.”

Was it? He didn’t want to ponder on it anymore. He just wanted to hear the soft sounds from Alice’s lips as he thrust himself in her.

* * *

 

That same night, under their roof John donned all his clothes and walked into his wife’s bed. He had lied about the consummation, but that was because he didn’t want to be humiliated in front of his peers, especially his older brother Harry who was ready to believe just about everything about him.

Anne put down her wine goblet and her silver mirror. She made sure she was presentable enough. _You can do this. You can do this._ She told herself she would do good, her mother had taught her everything she had to know about this. _Just be sure you don’t scream like a cow, like your namesake Anne._ Her aunt Anne was not about presuming the worst about every family member and she always did the most awkward expressions. _I am not going to be like her._ Dark like her father, she was everything her aunt Anne was not. She was tall, but not too tall to embarrass her husband, and thin. Very thin. Her younger siblings made fun of her that she would not be able to have children because of that.  A wife that didn’t have good hips was not good enough to bare children, everybody knew that. _I will prove them wrong._

She pushed her dark curls behind her shoulders. John came slowly, creeping to her bed like a lion hungry for his prey. _Do it._ Anne’s eyes said. She was anxious for this, and she knew he was too. They had grown up together, he swore he loved her and proof of that was that he had gone down on his knees begging for her forgiveness after he’d confessed his folly. He had nearly cried like a baby –but he hadn’t because his Lancaster pride wouldn’t- and she had made him swear before the cross and all the saints that he would never cheat on their marriage.

He would be true to her, he said, as Arthur was to Guinevere. He would not fall out of line for any Morgause or Morgana, or have sinful thoughts. He would think of her when he was in battle, when was assisting his brother, every time of every day, he swore. Anne was satisfied with this. She told her mother and she smiled at her, telling her she had done great but the greatest task was still ahead and she had to be prepared for that because John Arthur was experienced whereas she was still a virgin.

She spread her legs and looked down, closing her eyes, bracing herself for the impending pain. It never came. He cupped her chin and made her look up.

“Do not be afraid.” He said, it was the same voice his father had, but less rough and strict. His blue eyes bereft of hatred and coldness, his wavy dark auburn hair shining in the candlelight, giving it the appearance he had a golden halo on his head. “Just look at me” He said coming down and kissing her soft lips. “Just look at me and I promise you the pain will feel less I promise.” And with that he took her, and as he promised the pain felt less and it was soon replaced by a wonderful feeling.

* * *

**A year later .... 1454**

Marie was happy to see her granddaughter Queen. She had worked hard all her life when she married her good husband Luther so she could see this day. Her daughter the mistress of the King of Anjou and her granddaughter a Queen hailed by all of England as the beloved Queen of the man who had gone in history as England’s greatest King. It was more than Marie Alienor wished.

She tore her gaze from the happy sight. Unhappy sight, she guessed. Marie entered the Abbey next to her daughter who was carrying the King’s second grandson. John’s union with Anne of York soon bore fruit. She fell pregnant on the same day of their consummation. The child was born a week following the King’s death. It was a sad event, normally it would have been greeted with bells and chorus, but the King’s death changed all that. And yet amidst all this chaos, there was much to celebrate because England had a new King who promised as all the skippy Kings he would bring peace and prosperity with a wife who served as his campaign manager and Suffolk, ever their lackey, as their commander.

Marie shook her head. Woe for England. What dark days it lay for her ahead. A country that had given them such good Kings, and so many good fortunes. All destroyed. Amelie squeezed her mother’s hand. “Fear not.” She said, knowing what the old matron was thinking. “We still have one card up our sleeves.”

“You better hope that York boy gives our princess a boy like his sister did.”

“Fear not mother. The Yorks are fertile and when he has planted his seed in her we will have all our chess pieces ready to strike the new king and his haughty queen.”

“You better be sure.” Marie said with a huff as she saw the new king and queen enter the Abbey, the king looking solemn as he always did with those prudish clothes and the queen showing off her new pearls, all white, in contrast with her granddaughter's smokey pearls to mark the difference between the well born and the ill born of Anjou.

“If I were sixty years younger, I would have lured the good King Henry into my bed like I did your father. They were going to marry me to one of the Sforza, they were all the rage back then, still are, but my mother thank heavens for the women in our family told me be of good cheer for this nobleman of Anjou is here. Oh my dear, one good look at me was all it took and he was all mine,” The old woman cackled silently. “I was good, so very, very good.”

Amelie joined her. “I don’t doubt it. Grandfather never tired of telling me that story. He said I was just like you when I became Rene’s favorite.”

“Yes much good it did us, but thank God for that daughter. I prayed that they wouldn’t poison her like they did the others. Rene has many enemies. It is a miracle you managed to keep his interests for so long.”

“Rene is a man, men are not so hard to figure out. You have to pamper them and pretend to laugh at their every joke even when it is not funny. It is what you taught me when you were with father.”

“Yes, God bless his soul. Henry was different though. I had my doubts when he picked Alice. I crossed myself and prayed daily for her, I thank Him daily that they didn’t eat her alive. She did such a marvelous work with the King, taught by the best.” She said looking at her daughter, giving her a toothy smile. Amelie smiled back. “I pray she be remembered.”

“She will be remembered. She is smarter than us, kinder, more beautiful," _And deadlier._ "She doesn’t let sadness get the best of her.”

“Aye, she is." The old matron agreed as she saw her calmly make her way to her husband's body, maintaining her stoicism in spite of the grief that was eating her inside."Praise Him for that.” Marie Alienor said and crossed herself. Her daughter followed and they knelt as the ceremony began.

Alice looked straight into her husband’s soulless body. So many nights that they would not spend together, so many nights that she would sleep alone. She bent her head down and stepped away as they covered his body in the cloth of state.

Here was the greatest King that ever lived. England would never have another King like him. He was beloved by all his people, he had faced many rebellions but he always came on top. As his Queen, she would be sure no one forgot his children either. His legacy would live through **_her_** children.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Act II**

_“See me, hear me but don’t touch me_   
_You should fear me because I am seriously disturbed_   
_(That’s my world)_   
_Straight from my mother, to my brother_   
_Took all your shine, watch me get mine_   
_Cycle beings, angels and demons dancing on top of my world_   
_Don’t know where I am going_   
_I came to down_   
_I came to get dirty_   
_I came to get even.”_

_-So long by Everlast_

**1455-1457**

The man who had helped the queen’s mother get what she wanted now regretted his actions. If they knew he had been the midwife’s supplier, they would hang him and his family. He had to find a way out of this deal.

Amelie stopped him. “Lord Stourton if they really were after you, they would have arrested you by now or executed you. That is how this new king and his queen work.”

“The queen has been questioning everybody, if she or her husband were to find out-“

“They won’t.” She said. “You will go back to your darling wife and pretend none of this has happened.”

“But the midwife-“

“She will stay quiet as will you.” He opened his mouth but she waved his hand. “That will be all my lord Baron. Pray for both you and your wife’s sake they do not find out, because if they do I assure you it will be you they go after.”

He wiped the sweat from his forehead. Amelie should have never trusted that man. He knew too much. She would consult her mother about her next move. She placed her granddaughter’s doll in the chair next to her.

“You can come from under there.” She called. Mary Eleanor ran to her grandmother. She hid underneath the sofa. She always let the adults do all the talking while she would sit peacefully or hide, listening attentively to them.

Amelie placed her on her lap. “How much did you hear?”

“Everything.” She said. “Are you and grand-mama going to kill Marguerite’s baby like you killed the last one?”

“No my sweet, that is up to God to do, not us.”

“Why did you tell lord Stourton to be silenced then?”

“You are a clever one aren’t you?” The little girl giggled as she poked her nose. “Lord Stourton is a very wicked man, and your grand-mama and I need him to play our little game. Do you understand?”

“No.”

“Good.” _It makes you safe then._ She put her down. “Someday you will. Go on to your mother now. Tell her to come.”

Mary ran to her mother. Everyone greeted her, bowing their heads to the little Princess. Their late hero’s youngest daughter, everyone treated her with respect. She was the only one of her siblings (besides Harold) who wasn’t married. And likely wouldn’t be for many years to come! For a mother like Alice who had lost everything, her unmarried children were the only like she had to him. Alice didn’t want to let them go. The realm was filled with money grubbers and arse-lickers Henry used to say, and she saw it now more than ever. Harry and Marguerite (now insisting to calling herself Margaret) surrounded themselves by these money grubbers and whore mongers, most of them did not know a thing about war or administration but Margaret preferred them nonetheless. And of course there was the old nobility who as corrupt as the King and Queen’s new men were, preferred them over the bastard queen.

Alice’s birth always came back to haunt her. She heard her mother’s words over and over again. _They will never forget what you are._ But so what if they did? She took strength in her birth. She had known more of life than half the nobles in this court. Why, she could walk past all of them with her head raised up high because not only was she the king of Anjou’s daughter but she had been their greatest King’s wife, and a Queen one at that who had not been stupid to commit the folly their previous one had done, and whose children would never be questioned over their parentage.

A voice brought her back from her thoughts. Her daughter was standing on the doorway, wearing the pearl diadem her father gave her two Christmases ago. “Are you sad again?”

“No. I was thinking about your father, I a fine now.”

“I miss him too. He said he was going to take me to France. I want to go there, can you tell my brother Harry to take me there?”

“France is very dangerous. Your brother Harry now is King, you must call him such.”

“But he is not a King like my lord father was. He was the greatest King that ever lived. He conquered France.”

“He did but France is now an independent kingdom again and your brother is working very hard to keep what little we have left.”

“If my lord father was still King he would go on to fight the French like uncle John does. Uncle Humphrey says only a weak King does not fight.”

“Your uncle Humphrey loves to brag about the old days when your father was young.”

“But my father was young, he told me stories of his campaigns when he was just a boy.”

“Your father was not a young man when he died Eleanor. He was already old and very sick. He loved to brag because that is what old men like him do.”

“Is uncle Humphrey right then, that warriors make good Kings? That is what everyone says, uncle John says it too.” She said.

“Perhaps,” Alice said, choosing her words carefully as she heard heavy footstalls. She led her daughter to her bedchambers, dismissing her maidservants except two. “But a King needs to be smart too otherwise how can he keep his throne?”

“Madame, the Queen is here to see you.”

“Send her in.”

Marguerite hugged her sister, kissing each cheek then she kissed her niece.

“Your Majesty, to what may I owe the pleasure of your presence?” Alice asked, keeping her daughter close.

“You may call me by my given name when we are in private. I bring glorious news, I am with child.”

“With child?” Alice said with raised eyebrows.

Marguerite nodded her head, smiling proudly. “The doctors confirmed it this morning and I have been late for two months. Another brother to keep our darling Edward happy. We want you to be his godmother and Nor his darling companion.”

“How can you be sure it is a boy? When I was pregnant with Sofia I was so sure it was a boy.”

“It will be a boy darling sister, I can feel it just now moving inside me.” She got down from her chair and knelt in front of Nor. The girl was small for her age but she was beautiful and would grow even more beautiful. She thanked God she resembled the King’s more attractive ancestors. “Do you want to feel your future husband little Nor?”

Nor looked up at her mother who nodded. Nor placed her hand on her stomach. She felt nothing.

“When will the baby be due?” Her mother asked, bringing her up to sit next with her again.

“Next spring. After Suffolk and Gloucester return from France. Henry plans to give York, your son and daughter’s father in law his old position back in Ireland.”

“I am sure he will be very glad to hear it but his services would be better spent if he was in Normandy, back in Roue.” Where he belongs, she wanted to say. “He and Cecily know the people and they promised their son to the King of France’s daughter.”

“Oh, old Charles is ailing and he never cared for such betrothal. He wanted to marry his daughter to one of your sons instead but you preferred the Duke of York’s daughter above her, so he has every reason to be angrier at us now.” Marguerite said going back to sit. “It is not your fault though, these things happen, I have tried explaining that to Harry but he takes these matters too seriously and with the King of France, my uncle by marriage dying, well … it is only a matter of time before the Dauphin ascends to the throne and I doubt he will want to marry the grown up Princess the Duke of York’s heir.”

“The Duke of York’s eldest son is a very handsome and accomplished youth. I am sure His Majesty would be very pleased to have him as a brother in law.”

“Careful there, he has too many women locked up in his cellar, so they say. I don’t know what is real and what is not when these hens gossip but if what they say is true, I don’t think the future King of France will want him as a brother in law. He might give him Bona of Savoy instead?”

“Plain old Bona?”

“She’s not so plain anymore. You should see her. Harry and I received her portrait from the French ambassador last summer. She has truly blossomed.”

Nor perked her head up at her mother, she looked very surprised.

“Why wasn’t I told? Me and my sons would have housed him in one of our castles to avoid you the cost of his staying.”

“It is no problem. Harry and I have a lot of money to spare and your children would have found him boring. Somerset certainly did.”

“He stayed with Somerset.”

“Yes, he and the ambassadors are very good friends now. Somerset is truly a worthy fellow of his Dukedom. He knows everything about everybody and is very refined, just what this court needs. Which brings me to the last bit of gossip I am sure you’ve heard. His little niece, not so little anymore. Margaret Beaufort is going to be thirteen next year and as the daughter of a disgraced duke, many are begging for her hand in marriage. The king is quite taken with her and I cannot blame him. She is such the little scholar, but very noisy. She is always questioning everything, her mother finds her amusing but my ladies do not. She has already made many of them cry when she refused to play with their younger sisters. My husband does her no favors indulging her, I was wondering if you could take her in.”

“It would be my pleasure but my house is already full.”

“Make space then.” Marguerite said politely yet forcefully, keeping her wide smile. She took her sister’s hands. “Do it for me. I can’t handle little children, and I am going to have my hands full with this baby. You already have experience, and she will be a great companion for little Nor. Nor can teach her about manners and how to be a lady.”

She forgot to say that Nor was too small but Marguerite never cared for these little details. She never cared about anything except getting what she wanted, and she would once again because Alice said yes.

Marguerite closed her mouth and grinned. “I will send her to you right away.” She turned to one of her ladies and gave her the order. She came minutes later with her young charge.

Margaret Beaufort was a small girl of twelve. The age most girls would be required to be legally married. Her eyes were dark brown and full of defiance and despite being of medium height, Alice sensed she had much fire in her.

“Margaret come here child. This is –“

“I know who she is Your Majesty. Your Majesty, it is an honor.” Margaret said ignoring the younger Queen’s frown, she stepped in front of Alice and her daughter, blocking Marguerite from view and did her curtsy.

“Perfect curtsy. I mastered mine when I was just about your age which was the age I was introduced to court and the rest of my siblings.” Alice said giving her a small wink of approval. “How old are you lady Margaret?”

“Twelve Your Majesty but next year I will be three and ten, old enough to marry.”

“And do you wish to marry?”

“No, I wish to spend my time studying just like your late husband, His Majesty did and his present Majesty and build universities and attend them and become a scholar like them.”

Marguerite smirked and rolled her eyes. The girl was so full of dreams. “Only men go to universities to become scholars lady Margaret.”

“What about Christine de Pizan and Saint Catherine then? Didn’t they become scholars too?” Margaret asked without turning to the Queen, defiantly.

Marguerite rose, and at that Margaret turned their eyes met. Both had equal fire in their eyes but Margaret’s was hotter and the Queen feeling annoyed by the little girl’s insolence, said her farewell to her sister and niece and left without acknowledging Margaret.

“Finally she is gone.” Margaret said with a grin, letting herself be swept by the capital sin of pride when the Queen walked away with that expression.

“Lady Margaret,” She turned to face the Queen Dowager. “While your attitude was tolerated with my sister, my fellow Queen, it will not be tolerated here. I know you love to learn and I admire that. It is an opportunity I never had, but you will also learn to be discreet. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Your Majesty, very clear.”

“Good.” Alice rose and took her daughter Nor by the hand and moved to the solar but Margaret spoke again.

“But forgive me if I seem too bold. I think a Queen is defined by her learning and her discretion not just by her rich clothes. Her Majesty is the embodiment of this whereas your lady sister, our present queen is not.”

“You have a way with words lady Margaret, I will love having you as my lady but remember what I said about discretion. Nor, sweetheart, show lady Margaret to her rooms, she is your cousin so you can treat her as family.” Nor nodded and turned to Margaret.

“Come” She said and Margaret followed. On their way they passed many courtiers who bowed their heads to the princess and some whistled at lady Margaret. Margaret threw them dirty glances that said ‘touch me and you will regret it’ but this made it worse. It was that queen and this dress she made her wear. Her mother always said bad ladies wear dresses like these. The neckline was too low for her liking and while she had never been attractive, men began to notice her growing breasts. Margaret found it difficult to hide them, she didn’t want people staring at her as they stared at the queen with the same lust, or the queen dowager. She wanted to be looked at the way a man looks at god or a saintly figure, with love and admiration and respect. This was disgusting. Men are disgusting –she thought.

“Here we are, just one more corridor. Do not mind the men they are stupid. My lady mother says they know no better because they care more about their conquests than their souls.”

“Your lady mother is very wise Your Highness.”

“Call me Nor, all my family does and you are family too. When we are in private it is just Nor. Got it?”

“Yes.” Margaret said though she would never call her that.

“Here we are.” She showed her inside. It was a big room, and filled with jeweled plate and her own parlor and two beds that belonged, she guessed, to other ladies in waiting. “You are welcome to visit my mother if you want to borrow any spiritual books from her, she loves reading about the saints lives.”

“Tell your lady mother that I said thank you and I surely will. Does Your Highness read too?” Margaret asked very intrigued.

“I do.” Nor said proudly. “Though I prefer dancing and playing my instruments, my older sister is the one who loves to read, you will like her. She will come to visit next month. I can introduce her to you if you’d like.”

“Thank you but that will not be necessary, I do not know how long I will be here, if I will remain here for long or only for a short while.” Margaret said, talking more to herself than to the little girl.

“Nonsense, you must see her. You two will make good friends as you and I are now.” Nor said. Look there is a book there on your bed.” Nor picked it up and gave it to her. It was by Christine de Pizan. “Speak of the devil.” Margaret said, mentally crossing herself afterwards. “It is my favorite, tell your mother that I am truly grateful to her. I did not have many friends or women who enjoyed reading as she clearly does.”

“My mother does not read much, she is busy looking after her states and writing to my siblings, when she is not, she reads but she regrets she can’t read as much as you and other ladies can. She never received the type of education you did.”

“Does she know Latin or French?”

“Of course she does, everyone knows Latin and French, but there are other languages she wishes she could have learned or things she would have been taught.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, you can ask her, better yet you can offer her to teach her.”

“That would be very importune of me-“

“No it will not and mother saw how you spoke to Marguerite, she respects you more for that.”

Margaret smiled. She couldn’t deny that made her feel better. The queen was an attractive and beautiful woman but she wasn’t the scholar type like the king, though she had founded colleges and did many pilgrimages, but she wasn’t as pious or scholarly or devoted as he was. The queen dowager Alice of Anjou, her sister, Margaret sensed, was.

“If Your Highness thinks so then I will.” Margaret said and Nor smiled and left the room. Just then Margaret exited to give her thanks once more because after she left, she found many books in her new trunk but she was nowhere to e found. She returned to her room but on the way bumped into somebody.

“Oh!”

She fell to the floor. The stranger gave her his hand, “I am terribly sorry.” She said taking his hand.

“The fault is all mine lady Beaufort.” She looked up and met the blue-green eyes of Edmund Tudor, recently ennobled and made an Earl along with his brother, his un-identical twin brother, Jasper. They were all the rage at court. The bastard sons of that Welsh traitor Owen Tudor and Katherine of Valois, Alice’s predecessor. That woman had risked her position and her son’s throne for that bastard Welsh and bore his children while she was imprisoned in the monastery. Now they were all grown, ready to serve their half-brother.

“Lord Richmond.” Margaret acknowledged.

“It is a little late for a girl your age to be roaming these halls. Some men might snatch you up and rape you.”

“I could ask you the same question. It is improper of you to be up at these hours unless you are the man intending to rape me.”

Edmund chuckled. “My lady you have a very sick imagination but I imagine it must be so from all those tall tales your father told you every night.”

“You dare call my father a liar?”

“No, my lady I just came here to patrol the hallways, see who was up in case something was wrong." 

_Yes, that is why you are here._ Margaret thought sarcastically.

“I will be leaving you now. Stay safe lady Margaret.” He said and kept on walking, he turned just briefly to give her a grin, his blue-green eyes shining brighter by the light of the moon coming through the glass windows and his golden hair giving the appearance he had a halo around him. “So long.” He added and resumed his stroll.

Margaret scoffed. Patrolling, looking for any suspicious characters. How dumb did he think she was? _Rogue._ He was just a ruffian like his father was. She didn’t know why the king even bother to put up with him. His younger brother seemed quieter but rumors abounded he was a womanizer. Edmund didn’t seem the type to be one, his grin though playful concealed a true seriousness, she could tell by the way his lips moved carefully and slowly and the way he looked at her, like he was thinking on his every move beforehand. But nevertheless, he was still a Tudor and the product of that illicit liaison.

* * *

 Alice was happy to see Margaret flourish under her care. Her mother came the morrow after she had been left in her care. She gave Margaret the rest of her books she left at home and together with her new husband, they gave their blessings and thanked the Queen.

Margaret Beauchamp thanked Her Majesty for everything she had done for her daughter. She visited her again the following year and the year after that and was happy to see Margaret much changed. She was no longer the rebellious youth she had been in Marguerite’s care, but she was calmer and more poised, like a true lady. “Thank you.” She dropped to her knees and kissed the Queen Dowager’s jeweled fingers. Her rings were humbler than their present Queen whose stones were bigger. But Margaret Beauchamp liked it better this way, it showed this Queen had humility the present one lacked.

“Rise lady Welles. I am happy to have your daughter in my service. She is a credit to her sex and she has helped me keep the new charges Her Majesty gives to me in check. You should be very proud of her.”

“Oh but I am Your Majesty, very, very proud.” Lady Welles said. “I wish to talk to you about her dowry, my husband and I have heard rumors of men coming to you asking for her hand in marriage. Margaret has told us nothing but we want to know Your Majesty, just in case.”

“Lady Welles if you are worried about giving her hand away in marriage without consulting you, you best not be. I would not think of doing that. Margaret is like a little sister to me and she is so well behaved that I can’t see her as a wife yet.”

“I know but you see her father left her a great inheritance. If she had been born a boy she would have been the next Duke of Somerset but alas God did not deem it so. As John’s only daughter, she must marry. My husband has tried to fill the gap that John left in her heart but it is difficult. Whenever he talks of marriage to her, she flares up and says she will never marry. Her older siblings have tried to convince her to no avail.” Lady Welles spread her hands in helplessness. “We have exhausted all our options.”

“And you need me to convince her.”

“Yes.” Lady Welles confessed. “She respects you and speaks very highly of you. She wrote to my husband saying that there is no other lady more pious or raised up high as you and she didn’t mean your status.”

Alice smiled, touched by Margaret’s words. She was truly an extraordinary being, though she still had a lot to learn. She left it unsaid how she still fought with some of Marguerite’s ladies. When they tried taking advantage of her, Margaret would respond with riddles in Latin, French, or even in English, making them feel stupid.

“I don’t know how I can help. This is my stepson’s court now, you should go to him for suggestions.”

“I have tried but he sends me to his Queen and forgive for saying this about your sister Your Majesty,” she lowered her voice, “But I don’t think she would be a good influence on my daughter.” She relayed her fears about the queen’s new favorite.

“Yes I have heard similar rumors about Lord Suffolk but you must not be aggrieved Lady Welles, Suffolk is not powerful enough to wed your daughter to his son and you forget my daughter, the Princess Sofia, now Countess Sofia. She will not let Her Majesty wed Margaret without her permission.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think you know what I mean. My daughter is pregnant and only thirteen, such pregnancies are dangerous I know but by our law she is an adult now thanks to her new status as wife and mother. If she bore a son her status would be even higher.” She said and gave the elder Margaret a look that made her see it all.

“Bu-but the Princess is so young … the Queen would never allow it!”

“Leave that to me Lady Welles. I do not forget my friends, I promise you, all will be well.

* * *

Sofia greeted her husband with a smile. He kissed her on the cheek. He was a rogue, the ladies fawned over him feeling wet every time he passed by. He was handsomer than his older brother, Edward, earl of March, but he was only a second son so nobody thought much about him. But it was enough to make Edmund feel important and Sofia jealous.

_Be jealous. You are his wife. The others don’t matter as long as you have that piece of paper and the title in your hands._ Much good it did her. She couldn’t help be this possessive about him, but she never expressed it because she was too afraid that Edmund would react violently as Edward always did when his women got possessive, and drive him away.

“How are my wife and child doing today?” he asked lovingly, laying his head on her swollen stomach. He could feel kicks at either side of her stomach. He smiled. They were twins, he knew it. He just did. He could not help but feel enlightened by this knowledge. Earl of Rutland, soon –he thought –Duke of Rutland too, and husband to the Lancastrian Princess. _You just need to be boys._ Or at least one of them. It would be enough to scare Henry VI out of his wits, that pious, over indulgent with his wife, useless King into acknowledging his brothers and sisters as his heirs, and their heirs too.

He was passing titles like they were his to give to his favorites, and his recent act of giving away the two most important earldoms to those two bastard brothers of his, was outrageous.

_This would never happen if my father was King._ Or if his brother in law was. He was not perfect like his late father and brother, but he had his father’s decisiveness and commanded more respect than Henry did.

“He is sleeping. He becomes very anxious when he feels you are close. I am very sure it is a boy. And it will be born after the Queen’s.”

He looked up. “The Queen has had five pregnancies and two miscarriages, this one will end in tragedy.” He saw his wife’s face. “Don’t make that face, you’ve said it yourself, the queen is not of a fertile stock like we are.”

“She has given birth to two healthy children, two boys, what makes you think she is barren?”

“I never assumed she was barren but with that record, she can’t be too fertile either and besides her young son is sickly and he may not live for his second birthday.”

“Stop it, do not say things like that.” Sofia said wit an indulgent grin. His grin was such that it always made her grin too. “Have you thought of names for our son? He will be our firstborn. He must have a name worthy of his status.”

“Edmund after me.” He said with that playful smirk she both hated and loved so much. She slapped his shoulder playful. “I am not joking. I want him to be named Edmund and Richard for the second one after my father and brother.”

She chuckled. She shook her head. There he was with his wild guesses again, first that it was a girl now that they were twins. “You are imagining things, we are expecting only one child. A boy. Now be serious, what shall we name him? It must be something special, different but regal too.”

Edmund turned serious but it didn’t last. “Sepperus. What? It is the name of a great Emperor.”

“English name.”

“Ethelfed. It is English.”

“Norman name.”

“Guilleme.”

“Norman-English.”

“Edmund then.”

“Ugh, you are impossible.” She said burying her head in the pillow. Edmund laughed and brought her face to his. “Be serious Ed, it must be something special, I want our son to be named after someone special, something that makes everyone tremble but respect him as well.”

“Mm, you want our son to be named after a conqueror then?”

“Yes.”

Edmund thought hard then his face brightened. He kissed his wife fully on the lips and said “George after the saint who slayed the dragon. George of York and Lancaster.”

Sofia smiled, she kissed him back and buried her hands in his raven hair. “George.” She tasted the name in her mouth as they kissed again and again. She liked it.

* * *

Anne was busy spinning, impressing every courtier in the dance floor. Her eyes were focused on only one person, her husband. Every courtier’s faces transformed into her husband, the men, the women, they were all her husband. When she finished she knelt before him and offered her hand as a deep sign of submission, keeping her head down, ignoring all the cheers and applause that went around. John took it and raised her up.

“You danced wonderfully. Next time, we do one more to get another reaction from Their Majesties.” Anne brought her hand to her mouth, laughing discreetly. They sat back at the top table upon the dais. The Queen was without expression but Anne, being another woman who put her appearance above all else, saw the jealousy in her eyes.

They had left their son in the Welsh Marches where her father had been nice enough to give one of his properties to them. Ludlow Castle was considered by many a dreary old fortress, not suitable for children but Anne had made it suitable. She redecorated and made it as grand as it had once been. It was part of her inheritance from her ancestors, the great Earls of March to which now her young brother Edward, belonged to.

She worried constantly for Edward, their younger brother Edmund was only thirteen and going to be a father soon, his wife the same age. Edward fourteen and still no sons but she bet a lot of babies since he hung out with every type of women, from commoner to noblewoman. She took a small bite of her meat and turned to her husband.  
“The Queen is still looking at us. How about we give her something to talk about that will stay with her until the day is done?”

“You are one wily lady Anne but if I do as you wish, you must let me pick the name of our next son’s name?”

“No.” She said smiling proudly having her own way as she always did. She learned from her mother how to handle people, especially her husband whom she knew very well since childhood.

“You are one bad influence, I hope we never have a daughter or she will be as feisty as you.” He joked, laughing lowly so no one would hear him, but his brother who was always attentive did, and Henry gave him a disapproving glance.

“Then I will pray twice that we do because the girls in this family are ones carrying the brains.” She sad haughtily and kissed him. It was a short-lived kissed, sweet, and innocent but enough to make everyone envious.

Anne turned and smiled politely at Her Majesty, giving a small nod to her. Marguerite gave a nod back, her lips pursed and tight, she returned her glance to the front. Anne smirked.


	9. Chapter 9

**This chapter is a time jump, the events that follow are between '59-'60**

_"Because I know what it is like to test fate_  
Had my shoulders pressed with that weight  
Stood out strong in spite of that hate  
Night gets darkest before dawn  
What doesn't kill you make you more strong.  
And I've been waiting for so long  
Waiting for a light that never comes  
...  
When I was young they told me they said:  
Make your bed -you lie in that bed  
A King can't own you until he is dead  
And when it comes that day it is off with his head.  
You'll have my mercy when you're gone."  
-A light that never comes by Linkin Park

 

"I can't believe father awarded me the order of the garter before he died." Richard said to his mother. Cecily smiled.

"It's not a prize to be won. Your father inherited the order from his uncle who was slain during the French wars, he gave it to your father and now he gave it to you." 

"But what about the king? Doesn't he have a say in all of this?"

Cecily's face hardened. "The king spends his nights and days in prayers, when you are old enough to understand these adult trouble, I hope you are more competent ruler to your tenants than he is to his people."

"Or my brothers." Richard interjected.

Edward had made a disastrous marriage to a widow five years older than him! Her name was Elizabeth Wydeville and she was the daughter of the hated Lancastrian queen's best friend, Jacquetta of Luxembourg. Former now since her marriage to the other dreaded Lancastrian courtier whose ascension was ever on the rise, Richard Wydeville. Like her parents, she had the yellow coloring and green-blue eyes that made it easy for everyone to tell who belonged to her family. His mother hated her, not only because she considered the lady Rivers to be far beneath her, but she had usurped her position as confidant to queen Marguerite. That position had been his mother's. She used the information she gathered from the queen's household to transmit it to the dowager queen who still had many friends at court.

Now they had nothing. Marguerite had in effect used her cards well. He had to admire her. No one was better at playing the game of politics than her.

Cecily waved her hand dismissively in the air. "Your brothers are fools. Edward made a bad marriage but what can be done can be undone."

"What are you thinking mother?"

"Oh nothing special." Nothing you needn't to worry about yet, she meant to say. "Tomorrow when you are in front of the king's presence, I want you to bow before His Majesty and tell him you pledge yourself entirely to him. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes. I will. But you haven't told me about the rest. Will Edmund be there? It's been years since I've seen him. He doesn't visit us as often as he used to since he married that Lancaster princes."

"Sophia is a good lady and she is part of the family now just as we are part of hers. Our family is always first, remember that."

Richard nodded. "But then why do I have to swear my allegiance to him?"

' _Oh boy, here it comes'._ The moment Cecily had been fearing since  _it_ happened. 

"Because ..." she paused, searching in her mind for the right words. "... your father would've wanted to."

"I doubt my father would've wanted me to buy to a traitor whose wife has squandered all the treasury in her frivolous pursuits."

"Richard! Hush! Someone will hear you."

"I hope they do." He said silently as his mother adjusted his golden collar, it has the golden 'S', a sign of their Lancaster ancestors, and their loyalty.

"You don't know what you say. One of these days that big mouth of yours will get you into trouble mark my words. Now there, you look presentable. Just like a true Viscount."

She took his hand and led him through the great hall of Westminster palace. It had been the first time he'd been here. It was an impressive sight, he remembered the horror stories his older brothers Edward and George told him, that there were spirits locked here and they came every night to take the souls of scared children. He would run back to his father denouncing what his brothers told him, but his father hardly listened to him. He was too busy running his states and spending time talking about politics with his mother. Anne, Elizabeth, and Edmund were always there. They helped him ease his fears by dispelling the myths about Westminster Edward and George had filled his head with.

He missed Edmund dearly. It wasn't that he hated his bride, Sophia was nice and she brought sweets when she visited them, but she took him away from them and that was something Richard could not forgive.

His mother let go of his hand and he walked alone, looking down at his feet, waiting for the king and queen to tell him to stop. The command came and Richard knelt. He started with a proper greeting, his head still down and then slowly rose up. 

"Lord Richard, is it?"

He nodded.

"Raise your eyes son, we can't have distrust among our English folk. What kind of monarchs we would be?" Henry VI asked speaking in riddles again. His court laughed at his jest, though no one saw the humor in it.

Richard slowly rose his eyes and met the king's.  _So this is the would-have-been king's son?_ He didn't seem that much of a threat. But appearances were deceiving. His father thought his wife was an innocent, docile, fragile thing but surprise, surprise. She got him good. The best snake from all of her entourage, she cuckolded him with four bastards who still had the audacity to call themselves his siblings.  _Patience -_ He told himself-  _is a virtue._  And he was willing to wait a lifetime to exact justice on those who'd wronged him.

He turned to his queen. 'What do you think?' His eyes said. 

Marguerite fixated her eyes on the young duke's son. He was nothing like his namesake, ugly and dark like him with none of his notable qualities. 'He would do' -They responded and Henry returned his gaze to the six year old.

"We welcome you to court my young lord and we award you your father's honor of the order of the garter. It is a prestigious honor, only the best knights in the realm are awarded this honor. We will expect much of you to uphold this honor."

"Yes, Your Majesty-"

"I am not finished yet." Henry raised his hand and Richard was silent. "You will take leave of your mother and you and the late Earl of Warwick's daughters will share the same room and attend lessons with our oldest son. He is six years older than you but he is a sweet caring boy like his mother, you two will make good friends. Lady Cecily,"

"Yes, Your Majesty?" Cecily came from the crowds and showed her respects to the monarchs. "Make arrangements, we will allow you to spend time with your son before you leave. And ... send our regards to your eldest children, our congratulations on all their new children."

"Your Majesty." Cecily bowed her head deeply and left the scene, taking Richard with her. The barb went deep. He knew Cecily hated her new daughter in law and couldn't fathom the idea of having someone far beneath her to supplant her in her new role as Duchess of York. 

Yet, Elizabeth Wydeville or Elizabeth of York as she now fashioned herself, was not going anywhere. She was pregnant with the Duke's firstborn, and if it was a boy she would be unchallenged by the rest of her husband's kin.

* * *

 

Alice brushed her young granddaughter's golden mane. She was just as active as her daughter Sophia, the girl's aunt, had been at her age. Thinking of her eldest daughter brought a pang of hurt to her chest, she clutched it. Sophia was her eldest daughter, her favorite daughter. No parent should have favorites -her grandmother warned- but she did. Sophia and her older brother were everything Hal had been in his youth, and they knew it and took advantage of that, basking in their father's presence and boasting to their friends that they were invincible as long as he was with them.

_As long as he was with them ..._ Alice's hand fell to her empty womb. She yearned to have another man next to her bedside so she wouldn't feel so lonely. Marie Eleanor was not enough. The girl was ten, soon to be eleven, she was growing distant from her mother as she sought the company of kids her age. Most notably the teenage Margaret who in spite of her older age, was very good friends with her daughter and like a second daughter to Alice.

_Everyone I know goes away._ First her siblings, dying when she was very young, she remembered her mother nursing her young brother Alex, imploring God to save him but He never did and he died the next day, still in his mother's arms. Then Henry ... God, how she missed him. She promised never to use the Lord's name in vain but God damn her she did. Every night she spend dreaming of the passionate nights they spent in each other's arms discussing about their future, their children's future and the future of this country his son was driving into ruin.

She was hated by Harry. She tried being a mother to the boy but he couldn't fathom having her as a mother. In the beginning she understood and put up with it. It wasn't easy after all, having a mother who was two years your senior, old enough to be your sister. But as time passed by it became clearer to her that it wasn't just her age he hated her for, it was her children. Henry grew to love the children he had with her more than Harry, and he took all of them under his wing, especially John Arthur whom he continued to dote even when he was too weak to stand on his own. 

She convinced him to marry him to the York girl and their oldest daughter to the second duke's heir, to establish a dynastic alliance with one of the rival claimants to the throne, neutralizing that threat once and for all. Henry agreed and he fought to his last dying breath to see that their wishes were carried out. He wasn't there to walk Sophia down the aisle, but he was there to see their son married. It was a beautiful spectacle. Red and white petals everywhere and the bride, letting her hair down wore a beautiful pearl diadem with sapphires and rubies encrusted to symbolize the union of their houses. Her father spared no expense in her dress and neither did Henry in the celebrations that went after.

Her daughter's wedding was a more private affair, but it was still beautiful. Her only regret was that her father was not there to walk her down the aisle but he was with her in spirit. He had accomplished all of his goals, except one and that was to see his dynasty as the dominant dynasty in Europe. Harry had wrecked his father's dream; he chose a policy of non-aggression angering all of his nobles, including the so called peace-lovers like Suffolk and the Beauforts. Marguerite was of course by his side twenty four/seven. He was her mouthpiece. 

She put the brush down and made Marie Ellen stare at her. Since her grandmother had fallen ill, it had fallen on Alice and her mother to look after her. Sadly, her mother had her hands full so the task ultimately fell on Alice.

"Look at me." She tipped her chin. "You look beautiful, you know that?"

"I do." Marie Ellen said proudly, folding down her hands in her lap covered with rich silks, green velvet and decorated with pearls and powdered gold. The best for the royal bastard. Alice thought sadly. She wiped her frown and ran her fingers through her golden curls. "When your father comes to visit you I want you to vow to his lady wife, your stepmother, the lady Anne. She is your mother Marie and you must show her respect."

"Okay but can I play with my siblings afterwards? I miss my brother, he used to play with me all the time."

"Your brother is the future Duke of Lancaster and in line to take the throne should God forbid His Majesty and his heirs died, he has different priorities than you do and he must attend his studies."

"But why shouldn't I join him in his studies? I am smart too. Great-grandmother said I was."

"It is I am. Your great-grandmother still lives."

"Then how come she never visits me anymore?"

"She is busy Marie."  _We all are -_ she wanted to tell the child but she was still too young to understand these things. "But I promise you once she is free I will make sure she comes and visit you." Her face lightened. "And I will tell her to bring your cousins too, I know you miss Diane."

The child smiled brightened even more at the sound of her cousin Diane. She and her were best friends and they liked to boast they were like sisters. Diane as with her cousin Cecily-Anne, was the only female in a large brood of male children. 

The Yorks are fertile -she thought as she and Marie walked to the parlor to receive her oldest son and his family. Anne held young Cecily-Anne by the hand while the other three children, boys ages six, four and three ran rampant. Anne snapped her fingers and they became quiet.

"What do you say?"

"Sorry lady grandmother." The boys said curtsying to the dowager queen.

"I don't mind a few broken pieces here and there, you are children. Be children, run wild."

"See mama? Lady grandmother acknowledges we are children!" Cried William Henry John, a mouthful of names for the heir of the house of Lancaster, but John always indulgent with his wife, yielded to her wishes. 

"Will don't be respectful to your mother. She only meant well, and you do have to be more respectful son."

"But I am respectful daddy. I am your son and an angel."

They all laughed. 

"What is so funny?" Will asked stomping his foot on the ground, he crossed his arms against his chest. "What is so funny?" He asked again, this time quietly but with a deadly tone that reminded everyone of the late king, Henry V. At this Alice grew quiet. She knelt before him and took out her ring, the matrimony ring his grandfather had given to her after she'd presented him with his newborn after her churching. "What is that?"

"William don't point, it's rude." Anne admonished but Alice said it was okay. 

"This William was from your grandfather, the man you were named after. You bear great names William. John the Baptist was God's messenger before Christ came down to rescue humanity from sin. He prepared humanity for his second coming and William was England's conqueror, he established the Norman dynasty after which we all come from. After him you bear the great name of your grandfather. He delivered the Frenchmen from the yoke of a terrible and mad king and he was also my husband and I loved him dearly." She passed her hand through his dark auburn hair. 

"Mother-" John started but he was interrupted by his mother who placed her hand on his cheek.

"You remind me so much of him William." Then she withdrew her hand and went to her son. "Let him keep this ring, he is young but he won't be young for long. Let your father's name shine once more through him."

John didn't have the heart to tell his mother no so he nodded. After a quiet dinner they spent time in their mother's large private chambers, listening to the entertainment of the jousters and the musicians she brought in. Anne reclined her head on John's shoulder. He had let his facial hair grow like his father in his prime and he looked more handsome. 

"What?" He asked noting the way she looked at him. She gazed down at her jeweled hands circled around his and then rose her eyes up slowly in a seductive manner. 

"If you were not the Duke of York's daughter, I would punish you for your indiscretion."

"I would like to see you try my lord husband." They waited for the music to end to retire to their chambers where they spent the night enjoying their lovemaking. 

No matter how many times John thrust in her, he always saw images of his father dying, making him promise not to leave England in disarray, making sure he was always by his brother side and making his dynasty fruitful. To his last breath, his father trusted in HIM rather than Harry. It was HIM who went to his council meetings. It was HIM his father trusted with classified information when he was just ten years old and it was HIM whom he made swear he would uphold the greatness of England.

His enemies feared him. Those in court called him a callous, cold, son of a whore. Those who knew him, knew better than to mess with him. His mother was the bastard daughter of the Christian king, Rene of Anjou, a man so impoverished and rich in sin that he used his every penny to cheat whenever he liked. Such a man was his ancestor, but John didn't recognize him as his ancestor, he had only one ancestor of value and that was his father. His mother God bless her, had given birth to him, unknown of all the trials she would face. And thanks to his brother Harry, the court continued to shun her because of her low birth.

Low birth! He laughed mentally, thrusting deeper, perforating his wife's sheath to the point it made her scream. She grasped his shoulders, digging her nails into his flesh. Her screams were music to his ears, pleasure inundating them and soon they were drowning in a sea of purity, seeing nothing their reflection in each other's eyes as their bodies continued to move faster and faster ...

If his mother was proud and haughty, she could walk with her head up high. Her lineage was far nobler than the women in his brother's court. ( _Soon to be my court)._ They were dangerous thoughts but he wanted nothing more than to see the crown on his head and have the pleasure of his smiling wife next to him, as his undoubted Queen.

With a painful gasp they withdrew from each other, their hands were at their sex feeling nothing but soreness. Anne could tell her younger sisters all about the bedding -if she wanted- but she didn't. These things were private and her mother had only spared her the embarrassment of being unprepared because she was the oldest and the one with her head on her shoulders unlike Elizabeth, and Margaret was so young, barely a year old. 

_Someday she will marry a prince._ -She loved to tell her mother. Her mother Cecily told her to be patient, not to be rash like late father (God bless his soul) had been, or her brothers. She was a daughter of York and a Plantagenet, but most of all through her mother she belonged to one of the richest families in England and she bore a great name. If she wanted to be queen, her mother told her, she had to be patient and act her part with grace. It was always an added bonus that her husband was young, handsome, and kind. 

He painfully snuggled next to her and kissed her lips. She was the luckiest woman alive, God had blessed her with a fruitful womb and a husband who'd never tire of her. But like he, she wanted more than just being his simple duchess. She wanted to have it all with him.


	10. Chapter 10

**The Devil you know**

_“_ _I wedded a wife at my devyse_  
_That was the cause of all my moan_  
_Thyll her intenete seyd I never naye_  
_Therefore I mourn and no thing and merry.”_  
**_~15 th century poem “God Amend Wicked Counsel”_ **

**1463-1464**

Margaret of Anjou hated Alice. She never thought she could hate someone as much as she could hate someone like her sister but by God, she hated her! That bitch! Witch! Two faced backstabbing fiend! She was sure of it. That bitch’s mother, her father’s whore, had poisoned her babe while he was still in the womb. And she had poisoned all her others. Thank God her venom hadn't reached her eldest son, her beloved Edward.

She screamed as she brought her fingers out of her loins. Her left hand was the same color as her right one. She was scolded by her midwives who told her that this was normal. Women lost babies but they could have many more.

No, it wasn’t normal. She knew it right in her soul that this wasn’t some natural event. It wasn’t some moody episode that the commons’ wives experienced when their babes died as a result of their husband’s inability to provide them with a good meal. This was not ill fortune brought about by evil spirits or God’s vengeance visited on her because of her husband’s sins.

This was the work of one devil. A simple yet powerful mortal. One her father had the misfortune to sire when he slept with that two sided-whore.

She screamed louder. Where the hell was Henry? _Has the King of mighty England abandon me?_ “Henry!” She screamed his name many times until her ladies shut their ears and the midwives scurried out of the room, carrying the bloody sheets and the flesh that had come out of her.

When one of her ladies opened the door, she guessed he must have known. The look on his face was answer enough. “My fairest Margaret … “ There were no words he could say that would make her feel better so he chose to hug her. She hugged him back.

Neither of them cared that they were sitting on their son’s blood or hers. They both wept for what they had lost and in their sadness, an agreement had been struck.

* * *

If there was one thing Humphrey hated more than anything was to serve a man who was the complete opposite of his father. Some feared that Henry’s crown should not be his but his brother’s. His wives had died. One spurned because she was no longer useful and the other … Sweet Nell, because she wanted to give him a healthy son so desperately that she gave her life for it. And in vain! No child sprung from her belly despite the fact that his seed had taken root in her fertile womb.

Daughters as beautiful his wives. Beautiful daughters were useful but they were not sons. A daughter would never be the equivalent to the joy a son would bring.

It seemed strange. The Lancaster dynasty, once so fertile and filled with sons, now almost perished thanks to one miserable boy who save for his genitalia, was but a woman in spirit.

He chuckled. If the powers that be were merciful, he would drop dead right now. He went to take the chest that his second wife kept in her secret room. It had the doll of Henry V and Henry VI. The former had many pins. She had many good wishes for him as she had bad omens. But the doll of Henry VI had more pins.

He laughed harder. He stuck a pin on his head and took the hollow crown off his head. _Aye, it should be his brother._ Bloody York and his minions. He and proud Cecily Neville had won.

His second eldest nephew, John Arthur was enthralled with tales of adventure and glory. He would claim to ride on his father’s white horse and accompany him to France. _“I will be like you, uncle Johns and Humphrey one day!”_ His siblings were the same, albeit bolder.

John Arthur was loud when he needed to be heard. He showed off when he felt the simple minded needed to be put in their place and reminded who were their betters. But most of all, he _listened_.

He had the wisest council a man could ask for, one that was bound to him by blood and holy matrimony.

 _York has won, alright._ York’s eldest daughter Anne was made in his image, and possessed both of her parents’ wits. Like them, once she saw something, she took it. She had lay claim to Henry V’s eldest son by Alice when their parents agreed to marry their offspring to each other.

Unlike her queenly sister-in-law, Anne of York had the good sense to know her place. She read the books her mother read. She admired the likes of St. Catherine of Sienna, Christine de Pizan; women who had won men’s hearts by the strength of their pens, and their gracious natures.

 _Death has made him more powerful._ York’s legacy was going to be carried by his eldest offspring, Edward, Edmund and Anne. Although he suspected it would be the latter who would fuel it.

* * *

Humphrey did get his wish. His death was met with angry cries from Londoners.

When Margaret Beaufort heard their cries she scoffed. “You would do better than laugh at poor people’s plight.”

She turned and saw the smirking eldest Tudor brother. She returned his smug smile with a scowl. “What are you doing here?” She asked, emphasizing on the “you.”

His smile, if possible, became wider. “Queen Dowager has heard a rumor and rumors here carry weight. They are as powerful as the river Thames, and unlike the River Thames, cold winds are not enough to stop their powerful current.”

“Speak plainly or forever hold your peace. Is that not what they tell girls the day they are to surrender their maidenhood to men?” She asked. “I ask you again, why are you here? Don’t you have a brothel to visit with your twin?”

Edmund Tudor laughed. A good hearty laugh for the oddest maiden he had ever laid eyes on. Most girls her age would kill to be in the Queen’s party, but Margaret was the exception. She begged the Queen Dowager to write to her mother to convince her to keep her in her service. Margaret Beauchamp didn’t need much convincing. The way the country was going, it was better to keep a girl as valuable of young Margaret with Lancastrian blood in her veins, in the keeping of good Queen Alice.

It was a strange turn of events. A world where bastards had risen so high and ladies of noble birth were being spit at for their pride. For a bastard born like Edmund, he was happy to be part of this new world.  
“The good term is fraternal. I would think a bookish lady like yourself would know the term.”

“Just because I am not descriptive, it doesn’t mean that I do not know the obvious.” Margaret shot back. “The simple minded like it to be told everything because their minds are simple. You are not, so you shouldn’t act the fool and neither should your brother.”

“Why is it that you always mention my brother? I would think that you’d know by now that we are as night and day. Fraternal, not identical.”

“I know that! You do not have to point that out. If you are as you say you are. Be! Do not be together like you were some misshaped beasts, conjoined at the hip because that is how you seem. You are always together.”

“How can we not be? He is my brother and I am his. And he japes unlike any other and where I lead, he follows. He is as loyal as any knight and more virtuous.”

“Yes, just like the vile fiends in girl’s songs that is meant to make them stupider. Any man is loyal when his companion is in favor. Blood, bond, has nothing to do with it.”

“You are far too harsh my lady.” Edmund Tudor said. He followed her as she walked the steps to her rooms.

“We are what we are. I am born a lady but do you see me smiling and gossiping behind my mistress’ back like the others do? You were made a lord but you lack the good manners of one, yet here we are.”

“Here we are.” He repeated. He grinned at her angry look. “You shouldn’t put too much value in people’s words. Other ladies don’t. That is why they are respected and are heard when they speak.”

“Those ladies are stupid. They show off their jewels while preaching the good gospel. Wear expensive trinkets made in the images of our holy savior and saints while refuse to kneel in church more than a second. I have saint’s knees. I kneel and do it with pleasure and without complaint. If I were a man, my courage would be valued but because of my gender I am mocked.”

“If I were not so bold I would infer that you wish to have the good fates unsex you and turn you a man.”

“If you were that bold you would be smarter and have the good sense to know what I meant.” Margaret said. “I do not fault my gender for ladies’ stupidity, I fault their compliance of men’s laws. Never has being an idiot more celebrated.”

“Now who is being too bold.” Edmund commented. His grin disappeared and his voice became serious. “Edward, Earl of March married someone he shouldn’t have because of his libido. She has enchanted the court the only way she can, through her charm. If it is a cruel world we live in, it is a sweet one women must create to balance men’s temperament natures.”

Margaret stopped. She was impressed. “I didn’t think you a poet.”

“Poet I am not. Realist, I plead guilty.” His smug grin returned.

“You are insufferable.” Margaret said and continued on her way. Edmund didn’t follow her. When they neared her chamber, he turned and headed out. Young Margaret was right. His brother was no innocent. Like their rogue father, he was off in London with his conquest.

What neither Edmund or young Margaret were aware of was that his latest conquest had the face of lady Beaufort. In spite of their differences, the two brothers shared a bond that no other sibling had, but loving the same woman would tear them apart which is why Jasper Tudor, Earl of Pembroke chose to keep his love for his brother’s intended wife, a secret.

One person did know of this secret and she couldn’t help but feel sorry for the youngest Tudor sibling. Love was a terrible thing. Alice didn’t think that she ever fell in love. Much less with a man of a wretched reputation as King Henry V of England in France. He was in desperate need of an heir and she in desperate need of a husband. Desperate times called for desperate measures. But when they made love, she felt giddy, like one of the Princes of the songs she loved to hear so much about when she was young.

He was a scholar, a good lover and a good listener. He had given her children, and she had given him undying loyalty. Without him, she had her mother and grandmother. As much as she thanked the heavens for them, she still felt hollow.

In a way, the heavens did hear her prayers when her mother came one day after her youngest daughter showed off her new gown. Alice never let her sadness show on her face. She was as proud as her late husband, offering them the same wisdom she had given him whenever his anger overtook him by showing sweetness and cunning.

 _So it must be with them too._ Sophia and John Arthur were happily married. Marie was not.

She was her joy and her youngest son was always there to mock fight with her and both entertained her with stories of fantasy world and glorious victories.

But today, the tone changed. Today, Amelie visited her daughter. On her face was the smirk that she gave her son-in-law when she first met him and showed him what Lemaitre women were made of. Alice was her father’s daughter. Cunning, tricky and sneaking, but like her mother she knew how to use her femininity to win men’s hearts. Albeit, Amelie regretted when her father’s nature won over her own.

“Sweet daughter. You are far too much like your father right now for my own liking.” Amelie Lemaitre said. She leaned forward to kiss her granddaughter’s head when the little princess hugged her. Unlike King Henry V, she was like her mother in stature. Her head reached her knees. “Aww, my cuteness. You are just as beautiful as your mother at your age. Not that she isn’t now. If she had the good sense to look at herself in the mirror she would entertain a good courtly lover.”

Marie Eleanor giggled and turned to her mother. “See, mommy? I told you, you shouldn’t look down when good noble men pay homage to your beauty.”

“Good grief, child! And you, mother! You should know better than to say these things when there are eyes and ears hiding in these walls.”

“I have dealt with much worse sweet daughter. Besides, I bring you good tidings. Mary Belle come forth child and show your grand-mere your tiara.”

The Queen Dowager’s mother’s maidens brought her granddaughter, her eldest son’s bastard daughter, Mary Isabel. Alice smiled a genuine smile when she saw her. She preferred the name Mary Ellen. It sounded so much better. But after John married lady Anne of York, they decided to change her second name so there would be no confusion with his youngest sister.

She was the prettiest thing. She would dare not say it because it would hurt her daughter’s feelings but oh! It was so hard to keep her peace when Mary Belle walked to her chambers. She was absolutely beautiful and her tiara was simple yet wonderful.

“Your Grace, grandmama and lady aunt.” She curtsied to both.

Marie Eleanor was happy to see her niece. She was happier thinking of her as ‘cousin’ since ‘niece’ made Marie feel too old and she was far from being old. She was a child just like her pretty cousin. She wrapped her arms around her and Mary hugged her back.

“You look beautiful.” Marie told her.

 _Well that beats hurting her feelings._ “My daughter is as truthful as I am. Mary Belle you are a credit to your second name. And how you have grown. One day you will be as big as your father and your grandfather.”

“I hope so. Lady great-grandmother says that I will be the fairest in the land. I dare say I will only be the fairest of royal bastards and the lowest of the low because the scepter to beauty belongs to you still grandmama.”

Alice smiled sweetly. She could excuse pride on her because she was her blood. She looked to her mother. “Did you order the tiara for her?”

“Goodness yes. Only the best for my blood and when they carry royal blood, I have to give them the very best and your children and their offspring just happen to be from the best stock around.”

Alice rolled her eyes at her mother. “You are making them too spoiled.”

“I am glad. Someone has to and who better than the Queen’s mother. Now run along children, Her Grace and I have much to discuss.”

Prince Harold, Princess Marie and lady Mary Belle left the two women and their most trusted maids alone.

“Your grandmother is sick with worry. You haven’t been writing as much as you were when King Henry V was alive.”

“Don’t go there. It has been hard for me as it has been hard for the country.”

“My sweet, it has been five years. You should take yourself a good look in the mirror. There are many men who come from everywhere to pay court to you.”

“You can’t seriously be asking me to entertain … what I think you are implying.” Alice said, her expression serious as her eyes.

“I can see it now. The Queen Dowager who mopes while the Queen, that silly little thing your father sired before he sired you, goes around and struts like a strumpet.”

Alice said nothing. Margaret had been spending too much on her ladies and clothes. The Duke of York had become her sworn enemy and everyone from her staunchest allies to those she trusted less, had put limits on her spending. Henry VI however, rescinded those orders because her stepson being madly in love, and eager to prove he needed no one, contradicted everyone.  
She could see it in Henry VI’s eyes when he saw her. He thought she was to blame for his and Margaret’s losses.  
The boy she had smiled and tried to befriend was turning against her once more. He had tried before, when his father was alive, and it backfired. She had done the only thing that a woman in her position could do. She cried and knelt before her lord and husband, reminding him of her endless love for him and when pain struck her, nearly endangering her and her unborn child, she had won back his confidence.  
Henry VI was different brand from his father. He was just as pious but without his good sense. And with Margaret distrusting her more and more, she could only fear what the two had in mind for her.

“Marie Alienor married Luther because he was a man who was strong and would provide her with strong heirs. The last thing she wants is to see you crumbling under pressure. Forsooth your sadness and your tears. Tears aren’t a woman’s only weapon.”

“You taught me that when I was a child and father bragged about how you were the most loyal of his women.”

“I was and still am. Just as you were loyal to Henry. God rest his soul, a good man but a man nonetheless. Do you think that the stories about him whoring with every strumpet in London are not true? If they weren’t then why did his father not give up his throne to him when he asked for it? He was but Prince of Wales and his stepmother would have gladly seen her husband relieved of his duties that were making him more ill.”

“Jesus taught us to forgive. When they were about to stone Mary Magdalene to death, he asked those who have not sinned to cast the first stone. I am not deaf to the rumors about my husband but like with every rumor, they are based on nothing.” Alice said. She didn’t care what Henry was before he married her. What mattered to her was the man he was when he married her. She could soothe him like nobody else could, and he listened to no one but her. “What Henry did in the past is in the past. He was a good King to his people and a good husband and father to me and my children.”

“Nobody disputes that and you can stop being so modest when I press on the string of admirers that you still have. Don’t look at me that way. Yes, that way. It is only natural that they admire a pious woman like you. One who looks very good still.”

“I am not even discussing this.”

“You should. As your mother, it is my duty to counsel my daughter. My only pride and joy that I have in this world. Entertain some of them. Flatter them. You hated when your ladies gossiped, but that is the way they do it here. Eleanor of Aquitaine, Eleanor of Castile did the same and look how successful they were.”

“Eleanor of Aquitaine was locked up in a tower after fame got over her head and she instigated her sons to rebel against their father and she didn’t bother to thank her youngest son, her King, when he saved her from an angry mob. I am not those women, mother. I am Alice, daughter of Rene of Anjou, your daughter, and the late King’s wife. I am as God and the people will of me.” Alice casting her eyes down.

Amelie couldn’t help but smile wickedly. Her child was truly her daughter. All of Rene’s insatiable ambition, but the Lemaitre family’s good wit.

“If you ever change your mind, you can just ask. I have a good ear for poets who can compose strings of verses for you. In all seriousness now though, when are you going to let your grandmother come. She is dying to see her precious great-grandchildren and great-great-granddaughter. Nobody can outlive that woman.”

“The angry crowd outside might. They can hardly be calmed down when they are not treated with fairness.” Alice said, her voice filled with concern. Nobody who overheard her could deny that she cared for the people. Neither could her enemies misconstrue what she told to her mother when there were witnesses to see the way her face showed the same concern as found in her voice.

“God does work in mysterious ways. I could never put up with Rene when he waved endlessly at the dirty urchins in the streets. ‘Look at me, your loveable Duke, King of this and that and the holy city.’ He thought himself an Emperor at one point. If it wasn’t for me talking to him in his sleep and talking to him like a subject would to the Emperor he claimed to be, he would not have abandoned that stupid notion.” She smiled fondly at the memories. “Here I thought that you had proven me wrong when I told your grandmother that you were like steel. Sadness doesn’t overtake you.”

“But I weep. And as I keep his mental image here and here, I light a candle to his favorite saint and to the cross he prayed to and live for the future he gave me.” She said. And there was truth in her words but also a double meaning that Amelie caught on quickly and her smile turned wider for her daughter.

 _She is deadlier than any flame, poison, and steel._ Amelie however, still insisted on the matter regarding her mother. “A good look of you would calm her down. You know how your lady grandmother can be when she is worried. She prays and prays and constantly asks me, why doesn’t Alice write to me? Has she forgotten about me? Let her come.”

Alice couldn’t deny her that. Besides, she did want to see her grandmother.

* * *

When Marie Alienor saw her granddaughter, her heart leaped with joy. She instantly recognized the game being played and the genuine sadness she had after losing her loyal companion, but, unlike what she had first thought, not letting that interfere with her grace and dignity.

“You look every bit of marvelous.” Marie said to her granddaughter.

“It is a pleasure to see you again, grandmother. I pray that you forgive me for not writing to you as often but my mind has been on other matters.”

“Do not apologize. I understand now. You are every bit as astute as me. If your mother had your kindness, she could have persuaded your father to marry her. Alas, she made up for that in you. How is this wretched London? I hear rumors from the house you gave me in Hertfordshire that things get worse every day. Is that true?”

“I am afraid so. The King is at a loss of what to do and my sister is fearful for her remaining son’s life.” Alice said, linking her arm with her grandmother’s.

“Nobody can blame her. Almost all of France is lost except for that miserable border town and don’t get me started on cousins’ squabbling about ancient charts of who deserves the throne more, yadda, yadda. Nonsense I tell you. In some ways, the English are completely backwards.”

“The English could use a woman’s touch. Anne has written to me that she is pregnant with her second child and that she plans on naming her Eleanor Mary in your honor if it is a girl.”

“Heaven’s sake. Not more Eleanors and Marys. Tell them I will only accept if it is one, not both, but one. Preferably Eleanor. A good name. The name of Queens.”

“Of course it is, and the name of saintly women.” Alice said and at that her grandmother laughed. They continued walking the gardens, aware that they were being watched by the Queen.

* * *

From her window, Margaret watched that royal bastard and that old hag walk. Nobody did anything to stop them. What had happened to the world? It was as if the world had turned upside down. Bastards were not venerated and royalty was looked down upon.

This was on Henry VI. He should act soon or else he’d be without a crown and a son. She wasn’t going to let that slut’s bastard and her offspring take what was rightfully hers and her son’s.

Amelie Lemaitre’s presence was an insult to decency. If it wasn’t for her wealth and whom she opened her legs to, everyone would have branded her a strumpet. _Because she had my father’s sword plunged in her sheath, no one is brave enough to utter a word._

Her eyes flashed dangerously when Alice looked up and spotted her and smiled openly at her then nodded her head in reverence. _Insolent!_ Margaret nodded back then closed the curtains to her window.  
She was a bastard, plain and simple. One title didn’t change what she was. And her eldest son and daughter might have wedded the Duke of York’s first daughter and second son. That didn’t change anything.

She looked down at her hands. Clean. But they’d soon be stained with the blood her enemies when she unleashed her vengeance on them.

* * *

John practiced with his brother-in-law, Edward, Duke of York. It was one of those rare moments that their wives allowed them to spar.

“Edward that is enough.” Elizabeth said, hoping that her pleas would be heard but Edward continued until he and his opponent were drenched in sweat.

They finally stopped when thunder broke. “Shit!” John Arthur swore.

Edward followed. Both walked inside with their wives. Anne enjoyed Elizabeth’s company because she was different than the ladies she was used to. Elizabeth enjoyed Anne because she happened to be one of the few members of her family who accepted her and didn’t look down upon her because of her birth and previous marriage.

“You should really stop this competition. You are going to get yourself killed one day.” Anne of York scolded her brother and husband.

“It is worthless to discuss the obvious with royal men. Edward hardly listens to me unless I bring up the topic of a feast and jousting.”

“There is nothing better than jousting to sooth the soul in the absence of war and a feast to lighten someone’s spirits.” Edward said and kissed his wife squarely on the mouth.

“You are a philosopher Edward, I always admired that of you. It is what makes you so popular with so many women.” Anne said.

Edward gave her a mischievous smile. “None can ever compare to my number one and that is my bewitching Grey widow right here.”

“I should say you bewitched me my lord March.” Elizabeth said.

John Arthur looked at them and felt happy. Elizabeth loved Edward in spite of his dalliances, and Edward loved her because she had been his choice and he had moved heaven and earth to marry her despite his parents’ initial opposition.

“If you love birds have not yet finished, me and Anne will retreat to our chambers to change our clothes. I suggest you do too, otherwise you will catch a fever.” John said to his brother-in-law and his wife.

The Duke and Duchess of York smiled and told them they’d head to their chamber as well. Something told Edward and Elizabeth that John’s talk of him and Anne retreating to their ‘chambers’ was code for ‘quick time to be alone before we eat.’

John wasted no time on his Yorkist wife. She had taken the white rose as her badge as opposed to abandoning it like her betters had done before her. Lancastrian blood flowed in her veins but it was not mightier than her father’s whose strength she had passed on to her children.

* * *

A year after she had lost her last child, she had summoned parliament at Coventry. It was the end of December. The year of our Lord 1464; Henry had grown unwell. Her remaining offspring was still a boy and she had asked to be named Regent in case something happened to him. Knowing they’d say no, she shrewdly remarked that they could not deny her lesser requests. They agreed to every one, except the one that asked that she retreat with her son and husband and their personal guard to Whitehall. London was divided. They didn’t trust what the Queen would do once she got there. Knowing her, York told his brother-in-law Salisbury, she’d probably use her husband’s condition as an excuse to rally men behind her and act against them.

In Coventry with the sleeping king, they were safe. She was powerless. As was her son.

Edward, Prince of Wales was molded to be as his namesake, the first and third Edward, and his grandfather, Henry V. Those on the Queen’s side, could see the strong resemblance but few were brave enough to voice their concerns about the boy’s intellectual side. He loved his books but not as much as he loved the talk of war. His mouth was like his mother’s. Bold, not afraid to voice his thoughts, even when he was wrong. Most of all, he was proud.  Margaret didn’t make much of it. Edward, Prince of Wales was young and the coming years, she was sure that the country would see a king as wise as his grandfather and worthier of his crown than his father.

When Salisbury and Warwick arrived at Coventry’s great hall after parliament had agreed to give the Regency to the Earl of Salisbury, the Duke of Lancaster and the late Duke of York’s eldest son, the new Duke of York, Edward Plantagenet; they dined with their fellow highborns. The Queen arrived late. As they had expected, she could barely mask her rage. The smile in her face didn’t reach her eyes.

Salisbury gave the poor Queen a mock smile. “Do not be afraid Your Grace. We have prayed for the King’s speedy recovery.”

“I bet you have but there is no need for the King in his sleeping state is no more.”

Warwick blinked. He and his father and their allies quickly assumed the worst and stood up from the table. “What have you done?” He demanded. If this accursed woman dared to slay her lawful husband and lord then by God they would not forgive her folly and raise the banners in his son-in-law’s name, his second son, or whoever benefited him the most, and strike her and her devils down once and for all. England would be under a righteous rule with a King who would return it to its former glory.

The Queen’s lips slowly moved upwards forming a devious smile. She turned to her lady-in-waiting who had looked as forlorn as the Queen after she was told about parliament’s decision. Being the poet’s granddaughter, she was a good actress. They believed her vexations as they believed the Queen’s, but when those vexations disappeared, York and his friends saw that something was amiss.

The Duchess of Suffolk walked to the guards, ignoring the highborn’s cries. She whispered in his ear a simple command. He gave a nod and opened the door. In came the King of England.

“Gentlemen.”

“What is the meaning of this?!” Warwick cried.

“It is simple really. A deception for a deceiver calls for the greatest celebration and as Judas kissed our savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, on the last supper, I right the wrongs you have done me by turning the other cheek. This other cheek that you would have scarred so I could give up my crown. I wonder who would have followed me to my grave. My brother, John? My brother Harold? Or would it have been someone else that you my lords of Salisbury and Warwick crown? Our cousin, the new Duke of York. I think not. Proud Cecily would rather eat from the forbidden fruit and choke on it than see a woman she considers so base become Queen. You are not so proud yourselves to have considered either one of you but you are beneath grace and dignity not to have considered the option of displacing your kin to make you the power behind the throne. The tables have now turned, my lords.” Henry gave a mild smile.

His wife had always been impatient with him. She was right where he was wrong. She was assertive where he was mild mannered. They were the perfect balance to an imperfect union. And yet, when it came to vengeance, they saw the wisdom in joining forces.

Richard Neville and his father, also named Richard, heard the doors close. Even if by some change, they managed to escape, where would they go? Like women about to be taken by ruffians, they held each other’s hands. Their souls, which had been heavy with torment, were now ready for what came next.

Before Henry gave the signal to his men he muttered a small prayer then turned to his wife who turned to her enemies. She gave them a final smile. She had promised them that her face would be the final thing they saw on this wretched green Earth and being royally born, she was true to her word.

* * *

Alice turned the pages of her new book. All her ladies ever did was talk about poetry and useless things. _How much can these hens talk? They are insufferable!_ Her grandmother found them amusing. She loved to talk about the days when she was young and had spent endless nights with her grandfather and how many men had been mesmerized by her beauty.

 _No one can fault her for showing off. I am her granddaughter. Thanks to my mother’s illicit union with my father, I have made their fortunes grander._ She forced herself to give them a pleasant smile after they made a poor attempt at cheering her up. The latest news from the country had been that her stepson was still sleeping and that Warwick and his father, the Earl of Salisbury were still plotting.

She wasn’t worried. Her eldest son would get the regency. Of that she was sure. But ambitious as they were, they wouldn’t let him have free reign. They’d force parliament to name them his co-Regents.

It was a shame that many English noblemen’s view was too narrow, and their pride too big. Henry V was proud but she had showed him how powerful kindness was and that had made him ten times greater.

Her train of thought and her ladies’ entertainment was cut short when soldiers arrived to tell her the grievous news. Her grandmother who was with her, took her hand and squeezed it. Alice turned to her. Her grandmother gave her a look that told her to be strong. Life was unfair, that much they knew and this was one of those moments where she had to prove herself to be greater than her enemies.

“It is a terrible thing to hear of death at this unholy hour. I shall pray for their souls and their families.” Alice told them. Before they left, she asked about her sister and stepson.

“Her Majesty asks that you stay where you are and that for the time being you refrain from writing any letters to your offspring and your father.”

“I have written no letters to my father in over a year. Why should she suspect me?”

“It is not Her Majesty’s sole command but she also asks that when you are ready you send the lady Margaret Beaufort to her.” Alice did not turn to Margaret whose face paled when the captain of the guards said this. “His Majesty also demands that you send his younger siblings, Prince Harold and Princess Marie Eleanor to him so they can be companions of their nephew, His Highness, Prince Edward of Wales.”

“Why?” Alice asked, losing her patience. It was one thing to ask her to give up lady Margaret. The girl was a good friend of her daughter’s and granddaughter’s. It pained her to let her go, but now they were also demanding to give up her youngest children. “Why should the King and Queen demand this of me? Am I not allowed to keep them by my side? Am I not their mother?”

The captain didn’t answer her right away. His men turned away as tears rolled down her cheeks. “Answer me! I have lost their father, I will not lose them.”

“Madame, you won’t be sending them to their deaths. They will be well guarded by the King and Queen.”

“Yes, I bet they will. They will be turned against me by my sister’s lies. What have I ever done to her? What have I ever done to my stepson. I treated Harry with nothing but kindness. I tried to be his friend and this is how he repays me.”

This was too beneath her. His men might not see her for the actress she was but he did and told her to stop. “The King shall allow you to visit whenever he decides it is safe. Until then, you must make sure that they are packed, bringing their most valuable possessions. They will be taken care of, Madame.”

“You forget my granddaughter is a Queen. Queen Dowager but Queen nonetheless. Has the King forgotten she is his mother?”

“The King forgets nothing. He is a man of his word as he is of God.”

“God! What does he or you know?” Marie Alienor said. She sighed. “Well, better send your children to the vipers, Alice. Good thing they are made of steel like their father.”

**~o~**

Alice wasn’t happy to see her children go. She told her son to watch over his sister. Harold flashed her that secretive smile that his father and older brother had and promised her not to worry. For her part, Marie Eleanor wasn’t scared. She thought it was exciting because she would have her friend, Meg Beaufort with her. She was the only one who was allowed to call serious Margaret Beaufort “Meg” without making the young Beaufort girl furious.

She steeled herself when she turned to her ladies and asked them to join her and her grandmother in silent prayer.


End file.
